As Hot as Ice
by Witchdoctr
Summary: Matthew is tormented by Gilbert, but he is saved by the psychotic sociopath, a scary new Russian student. Ivan seems like a nice guy; Gilbert seems like a heartless bully. But who is a liar? PruCan vs RusCan, don't be deceived by the character listing, because either can win. Limes, depression, bullying, all the fun stuff. America/Belarus. Yeah, I'm going there.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia**

**Author's Notes**

_Thoughts/ Flashbacks_

Notes/ Letters

"Talking"

**Simple enough, no? **

**So I love PruCan, but I also love RusCan, so here we go. I'm going to write a highschool fic. Yeah. It's one of those. ****I'm not particularly interested or invested in this story, so if you want an update, you'll probably have to review. I saw probably, because if I'm bored, I might update anyway. But I'd appreciate reviews, since I'm kind of busy and I have another story to write. If this has popular reception, then it'll shoot up on my priorities list. **

**Let the show begin.**

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><p><strong>Prologue- <strong>

_Matthew cringed. He stumbled backwards, hitting the lockers with enough force to dent the cheap metal. He slid to the ground, his glasses askew, his wide blue eyes full of terror. "Leave me alone, please," he begged. "Just leave me alone. Just today, please-" But he saw the look in that albino's eyes and he knew it was going to happen. He knew that right now, the same thing was going to happen, the same thing that happened every day and would continue happening. His vision blurred as tears clouded his eyes._

Matthew stared at his family. They seemed so happy without him. His father and his papa sitting at the dinner table, all of them laughing at something witty Alfred had said.

_"Aw look, little faggot's crying! What's the problem, you dumb Canuck?"_

His papa looked up, his wide blue eyes merry with laughter. Then widening as he noticed his son. "Oh, bonjour, Matthieu! Come join us, mon fils."

_Canuck._

_Why did they have to make it sound so derogatory? He was proud of being Canadian._

"So how are you? How was your day?" Francis asked avidly.

Matthew stared at him.

"Fine."

But his answer was overlapped by Alfred's enthusiastic, "So today, I was talking to-"

_A clenched fist rammed into his face. His head slammed against the locker. White spots flashed across his sight and he tasted metal. Liquid metal. Hot metallic blood. _

_He'd bitten his tongue_.

He didn't reply after that. And no one bothered to ask him anything else. Instead, Alfred began a story about whatever funny thing had happened to him earlier.

Same as always.

No one noticed him. Even while he was at the table, he was ignored. Alfred just stood out. And he... didn't.

_The pain. The inside, the outside. _

_His skin throbbing, fire erupting, the screaming. _

_His own screaming. _

_He was screaming. _

_Everyone else was laughing._

_Or taunting him. _

Not unless he was being a bully magnet. Not unless someone was feeling pathetic and useless and felt like making themselves feel bigger and better than someone.

And he was always that someone.

No, he wasn't even someone. He wasn't even a person.

_"Oh shit, it's a teacher! Run for it, Gil!" _

_"What about-?"_

_"He's not going to squeal. He knows if he does, he's dead meat."_

_"Well he kind of looks like it right now-" _

Matthew stood up gingerly.

He left the table.

No one looked up.

_Matthew scrambled up, ignoring the throbbing pain stabbing his skin with every movement. _

He left.

Opening the door slowly. Hoping that they'd look up, just _look up, _just look at him!

Just once.

Even just a little glance.

_He darted outside, into the courtyard. He ran hectically, not caring where he was going, just focusing on hiding. _

_But he shouldn't have tried so hard. _

Nothing. No reaction.

_He didn't have to hide because people didn't see him anyways. _

It was freezing cold outside.

He'd gone out without a coat. Or shoes. Or anything but his shirt and jeans.

But he welcomed the freezing, biting cold wind and snow, pressing and sticking to his skin.

_He tripped over a root. He fell hard against the tree's trunk. His head tilted upward and he cried up at the heavens, eyes tightly shut, at the snow-covered tree branches. _

_Blood running down his pale face, the deep color standing out on the pale, tear-stained skin. _

_Blood and tears ran down his face. _

_He was unaware of the violet eyes watching him curiously from across the courtyard. _

He stumbled through the snow, his bare feet freezing.

They felt like they were burning.

A fire so cold it hurt.

An ice so cold it burned.

Like his feelings.

Like his loneliness.

_When he finally cried himself to sleep against the tree, he didn't hear the little chuckle. _

_He didn't hear the soft, contented sigh. _

_"You're very lonely, da?" _

"You know it's very cold."

Matthew heard the words. But he was too numb to really _listen _to the words.

_When he woke up, he was freezing. _

_He went inside. _

_Scrubbed his face clean of blood. _

He stumbled against a building.

"This is very dangerous, Matvey."

That caught the Canadian's attention.

For a crazy moment, he thought he heard his name. Or a strange version of his name. But his name nonetheless.

Still, the name Matthew was common.

He couldn't count how many times someone would call his name in the hallway and he'd look up hopefully, only to look down disappointedly as he was shoved aside for a more important person, a person who claimed the name Matthew, not someone who's name could only be remembered by its owner. Sometimes even its owner forgot his own name. But at one point, when no one used your name for _you, _then you forgot you went by the name. Sometimes, you could forget yourself.

_"Nice face, ugly." _

_Matthew didn't look up, his eyes focusing determinedly in the sink. Staring at the blood-red water swirling down the drain. _

_"You know, you were ugly before I rearranged your face for you. Maybe if I work harder next time there will be some improvement-" _

It was like that question. If a tree falls and no one's around to here it, does it make a noise?

If no one saw him or heard him, then did he exist?

Because when you were alone, it could get hard to remember you exist at all.

"It is very cold, Matvey. You are not in the right state of mind. Please stop walking. Please wait for me, Matvey. Please stop running."

For the Canadian had started running now.

He knew that tone of voice.

A soft, calming and soothing voice. The voice of a lover, calling to another lover.

Someone who cared for another person.

He couldn't bear to hear that tone of voice saying his name.

It was torture knowing he'd never hear it directed at him.

He tried to get away from it.

_"You should thank me."_

_Matthew ignored the albino. _

_But a hand seized both shoulders and spun him around._

_The albino pressed himself uncomfortably close, his nose a good three inches from Matthew's nose. His hips pinned Matthew to the bathroom sink and Gilbert planted both hands on either side of the boy. _

_"You exist in my eyes. You exist to me, Matthew. I see you." _

"Matvey!"

And suddenly, two arms encircled his waist.

"Matvey! I'm talking to you!"

_Someone... could actually _see _him? _


	2. Chapter 2

_"Psst, is he alone?"_

_"No, that Russian freak's still with him."_

_"Damnit. It's so much harder to get him when he's not alone."_

_"Yeah," Gilbert said reluctantly. "Come on, let's go see if Edelstein's wearing pink underwear with patches again." _

Matthew snuggled closer to Ivan.

He was cold.

So was Ivan.

But just knowing the Russian was there for him and always would be was enough to warm him.

Ivan wrapped both arms around the Canadian.

It never struck Matthew to be disturbed by the Russian's almost possessive grip.

He thought it was love.

And for someone who rarely felt it, it felt better than anything in the world.

_"Ivan Braginski? IVAN BRAGINSKI?"_

_"That is his name," Matthew said coldly. _

_"Why him? He's a freak! A Russian sociopath, Mattie! Why would you even consider dating him? And I didn't even know you were... well, uh, you know-"_

_"Gay?" Matthew suggested critically. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Alfred. And there's a lot you don't know about Ivan." _

"Are you cold?" Ivan asked.

"A little," Matt admitted.

"Why don't we go to your house, then?"

"My house?"

Ivan looked at him shyly.

"I mean, it's closest. I don't mean to intrude or to invade your personal space, I mean-"

Matthew squeezed his hand. He thought it was really cute when the tall, intimidating teenager stammered shyly and awkwardly. So unlike the first time they'd met.

_Matthew flinched as he felt the two arms around his waist. _

_"Leave me alone, Gil," he cried._

_"It's not Beilschmidt. It is me. I am Ivan Braginski. It's very cold. I don't think you should be outside like this. You will get very sick. I care about you, little Matvey. I care about you in a way no one else does. I see you. And I love you." _

_The words shocked him. _

_But not as much as when suddenly he wasn't touching the ground anymore._

_He was suddenly in the air._

_In Ivan's arms. _

_Suddenly, he wasn't cold anymore. _

_Suddenly, both arms had someone to grasp onto, to cling to. _

_He hugged himself closer to the Russia, burying his face into this stranger's neck. _

_"I love you, little Matvey. And I care for you. I always will. I promise I always will." _

_And for some reason, he believed this odd stranger. _

"Come on, let's go. My house it is."

Both of them stood up from the park bench they'd chosen for themselves.

_"How about here?" Ivan suggested cheerfully. _

_"Here?" Matthew asked. "This park bench?" _

_"Yes. It is nothing special now, but in the summer, it will be surrounded by the most beautiful sunflowers! I will plant as many as I can!" _

_Matthew smiled. _

_He shyly reached for the Russian's hand, gripping the other boy's fingers. _

_That had been the first time they'd ever held hands. _

_"It's special _now_ because it's ours." _

_And they both smiled, because it was the first time they saw something as theirs. _

_Not mine. Not his. _

_Theirs. _

_Both of them were used to others caring for only themselves and seeing only themselves and their possessions and their lives. _

_But now they had each other. And they cared for each other. Everything they had, could be theirs, not his. _

"Want me to carry you?" Ivan giggled playfully.

Matthew shook his head.

"I'm not a damsel in distress. There's no need to- Ivan!"

For once again, he was in the Russian's arms.

He laughed.

And the Russian kissed his hair, inhaling, smelling the Canadian's sweet scent, smiling with his violet eyes closed.

Neither of them cared for the glances many people gave them.

Ivan didn't think they mattered.

And neither did Matthew.

They loved each other. And that's all that mattered.

But as Matthew's eyes closed and his head fell back as he laughed in delight, in a way that had escaped him before he'd met his boyfriend, Ivan's eyes narrowed.

He glanced behind.

And saw a flash of white that wasn't snow.

He hadn't seen him.

But he did know who it was.

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

His eyes darkened.

He'd better stay away from them or there would be trouble.

As for Gilbert, well his red eyes peered around the corner.

His eyes passing over the scary Russian and focusing in on Matthew.

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><p><strong>Sorry if this is corny. I tried to make it sad and fluffy and sweet. I might be failing, though. And I need you to tell me!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, you can put me down!" Matthew told him.

The Russian pouted, but he set the smaller boy down onto his feet.

Matthew fumbled in his pockets for his key. Finding it, he pushed it in and turned the lock, hearing it click open. He pushed the door open and his boyfriend followed him. Then he froze. Ivan walked into him. "Matvey, what's-?"

"Matthew! How dare you bring him here!" Alfred shrieked.

Matthew's family all looked at Ivan. Francis's eyes widening and Arthur's eyes narrowed, darkening as he studied the Russian.

"You didn't tell us to expect company," Arthur said coldly. "And who is this?"

"I-this is-" Matthew stammered.

Ivan wrapped his arm around the boy's waist, making him blush.

"привет, hello, my name is Ivan Braginski, Matthew's boyfriend."

"Uh huh, yeah, he is and we have things to do, bye now," Matthew said hastily, tugging Ivan upstairs as quickly as he could. Which was pretty slow, considering how much Ivan wanted to stay downstairs, glaring at Alfred, who looked like any second he was going to explode. Which he did the moment they were finally out of view.

"Mon dieu! Little Mattieu has a boyfriend? How cute," Francis simpered.

"Cute?" Arthur exclaimed. "You idiotic frog! I didn't even know he swung that way. Why didn't he tell us before? It is not okay to bring boys home without giving us a little information first. MATTHEW! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

Matthew jerked as he heard the yell from downstairs.

"Looks like the family wants to talk to you," Ivan said quietly. "You'd best talk to them about me. Don't vorry, I won't eavesdrop. You can say whatever you like."

"Maybe you should. That way when they try to murder me, I'll know you're somewhere nearby to protect me," Matthew groaned.

Ivan chuckled, but his eyes were serious when he said, "they will not hurt you."

The moment he was in the kitchen, they all attacked him.

"Matthew, how could you betray me like that? He's a complete ass-"

"Mon petit, why didn't you tell your Papa about this handsome young man earlier, hm-?"

"No consideration for your family-"

"He's a communist! And he smells weird! And he talks to himself!"

"It's such a cute relationship, I can just tell! How romantic, hiding him from us, then bringing him home-"

"What did you say, Francis? Are you crazy? We had no warning-!"

"Yeah? Well maybe if you paid a little more attention to me in the first place maybe you'd know something about me!"

Matt had had to yell to get their attention.

He'd never yelled at them before and it effectively shut them up, even Alfred, who had the loudest voice of all.

"But Matt, it still stands that we should've been told, I mean... he's so much older than you and-" Francis said timidly, even though he was delighted that his son was finally dating someone.

"How do you know he's trustworthy? I mean, he looks like a Neanderthal-" Arthur said, recovering from his shock easily enough.

"He's a freak! I heard him talking to himself about sunflowers and vodka! I think he's a drunkard! Is he hurting you? Is he forcing you into this?"

"No! My God, you people don't even know him and you're judging him! You hear me? None of you know anything about Ivan, so don't be stupid and make such stupid assumptions-"

"That's enough!" Arthur snapped. "I will not let-"

"If you are worried I'll hurt Matvey, you don't have to be."

The family all stopped talking abruptly. Matthew started to turn around, but stopped as he felt an arm around his shoulders.

"I would never hurt Matthew. I will always do what he wants and what is best for him. I love him."

And everyone except the two of them gasped.

"L-love?" Alfred stammered. "That's ridiculous, you barely know each other-"

"It's not ridiculous. Just because every girl you've ever been with dumps you after you fail to be a good shag does not mean this is true for everyone else," Ican growled darkly. "Matthew isn't like your little playmates-"

"Ivan!" Matt reprimanded.

"I apologize, Matvey."

"Don't you two think you're rushing this a little?" Arthur said, resisting the urge to flip out and demand the Russian leave. He knew about this kind of relationship. If he pushed too hard, he'd only end up pushing Matt right to Ivan. He had to be careful. "This is your first relationship, Mattie."

"Exactly. This is my first relationship. I- I never thought I'd even- ever-" Matthew's lip quivered a little as he tried to admit something he'd known, or always thought he'd known.

Ivan rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I never thought anyone would ever pay attention to me or care about me the way Ivan does," Matthew whispered. Francis noticed the sudden change in courage and the reaction Matt seemed to have when the Russian gave him encouragement. It was...sweet. A small smile began to form on the Frenchman's lips. Maybe this relationship was as sweet as it appeared, as sweet as the relationship he'd want for his little Matthieu. But still, something about the Russian gave him the creeps.

Matthew suddenly flushed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He shut it abruptly, made an odd little squeaking noise... and ran.

Just ran.

One second, he was there, the next thing the door was swinging shut.

And after that second, Ivan bowed to Arthur and Francis, throwing Alfred a dirty look, which was returned.

Then, he was gone. Presumably after his Canadian.

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><p><strong>You asked, you received! Thanks for the encouraging reviews! Woot! <strong>

**I might update later, but for now, I have something mandatory to do. Sigh. It's not really something I want to do, but I have to. I'll be gone for maybe an hour. **

**When I come back, I hope I have some reviews in my mailbox?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hm...well this author really has nothing to say besides that I don't own Hetalia. **

**Alright, you know the drill. I write, you read, you review as payment for more writing. XD**

**JK, reviewing is optional. **

**But if you're here, it's mandatory to read. **

**So I'll quit babbling.**

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><p>Matthew was a lot quicker than Ivan.<p>

And in his embarrassment, his speed doubled.

He couldn't believe his parents had overreacted like that! Why of all days did they have to come home? They were never home that early on a Saturday! They usually went out somewhere, picking up Alfred directly from school and going somewhere fun, like the movies or the bowling alley. He always used to be jealous when they forgot about him. Then he'd be overjoyed on those rare occasions were he happened to get to their car at the same time as Alfred and got to come along with them. They didn't remember him unless he was at the pickup line with Alfred or before Alfred and waiting for Alfred. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred. Everything was centered around him. But on the one occasion where he'd been _counting _on them to be _gone, _they'd been home. Why? Did the universe hate him? Did it do its best to torture and inconvenience him at all times?

_No. If that was the case, you never would've met Ivan. _

_Yeah, but because of this "inconvenience" I might not be able to see him as freely as before,_ Matthew answered himself. _It's like the universe gave me him so it could just tear him away again. Like the universe is out to torment me and my very existence. _

_Don't be so pessimistic. You don't have a reason to be bitter anymore, you have Ivan, who's probably very worried. Maybe you should head back-_

Just as Matthew agreed, something clamped tight around his mouth.

He let out a muffled, almost completely silent yelp as suddenly he was dragged through the nearest door into a building.

Matthew was thrown against something hard, a wall. The sudden impact sent sparks of pain shooting up his spine, causing his back to arch.

"Ow!"

He barely had time to register that he was in someone's house before a fist sunk into his gut.

He gasped, no longer acustomed to the pain.

"Hey! Mute! Remember me? Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

Matthew flinched, instinctively pressing himself against the wall.

"Yeah, you can't forget awesomeness like me!"

"Please leave me alone," Matthew whimpered. He was so used to saying it. As soon as he saw the albino, the words would form on his lips and he would beg, but they never listened. The words had become a mere habit, ineffective and unheard.

Gilbert stared at him. The blond's hands weren't even covering his face defensively. He didn't even want to fight anymore, his fingers in clenched fists against the white plastered wall rather than tensed and ready to fight. He was shaking like a leaf, his violet eyes closed. Gilbert didn't like it when his eyes were closed. "Open your eyes," he growled.

The Canadian did, his eyes clouded as he waited to be hit. Gilbert was a sadist and it would've given him more pleasure then he cared to admit to see pain flitting across those eyes, but he had something more important to do. "Listen carefully, Mattie. You know that Ivan freak you've been dating? Well he's no good for you. He's a freak. A real psycho. You can't trust anything he says or does. He's lost it! I see the way he looks at you. Like you're a possession. He's no good. Best to stay away from him. Of course now it might be too late. He's going to hurt you. He's a monster. He's dangerous."

Matthew stared at Gilbert. His beautiful eyes were surprised.

Then dark.

The albino tilted his head. He didn't like that look at all.

Sad? Too precious. In pain? Too adorable. Submissive? Definitely his favorite.

But dark and mistrustful?

How sad.

"He's not the monster. You are!"

And with strength Gilbert didn't know the boy possessed, Matthew shoved him away and bolted for his door, slamming it shut behind him. Gilbert walked slowly over to the window and pulled back the curtain half an inch.

Matthew ran, but he didn't have far to run.

Immediately, he ran into Ivan, who'd finally caught up.

"Mat-?"

Matthew wrapped both arms around the Russian, who happily returned the contact.

"I hate Gilbert, I hate Gilbert, I hate him," Matthew murmured.

"What? Why? What did he do? Are you okay, Matvey?" Ivan asked looking at him concernedly.

"I'm fine. He just- I-" Matthew paused. He wasn't sure. Should he tell Ivan about Gilbert's lies? Gilbert tormented him. Gilbert _hated _him. Gilbert hated seeing him happy. Gilbert wanted to see him in pain, see him suffer, see his loneliness. Of course he'd try to seperate him from the one thing that made him happy. His protection. If he told Ivan what Gilbert had said, who knew how Ivan would react? Would he be upset? Would he be upset over nothing? This was nothing. It really was nothing... but he didn't want to keep it from Ivan. Maybe... maybe he felt a little nervous about the warning. Maybe... he was a little doubtful and he needed Ivan to vehemently deny such a threat.

"He said you were a monster. He's... he's such a liar! I wish he'd leave me alone! He's trying to-" the words died in Matthew's mouth. He didn't want to say the somewhat embarrassing words he'd been thinking of saying.

A dark look came into Ivan's eyes.

A very dark look.

"What did he say, Matvey? What do you think he's trying?" the Russian growled. "What did that bastard say about me?"

His arms tightened around his waist.

"Ow. Ivan, you're hurting me. Ivan-"

"What did he say?"

"I-he said you were psycho and a freak and that you were no good for me and that you would hurt me. He said you were dangerous. Ouch, Ivan, let me go, please!"

Ivan finally loosened his grip, giving Matt the much needed space to breathe. Matt gasped, coughing a little. His grip had been like iron around his chest. Ivan tightened his grip again, pulling Matthew against his chest, one arm resting around his stomach, the other hand burying itself in Matthew's silky hair. Matthew struggled for a split second, but something about that dark look he'd seen in his Ivan scared him and he quickly halted his movement. Tensely, he felt fingers brush through his hair. "Relax, Matvey. You know he's a liar. You know I would never hurt you."

Matthew shook slightly.

Something about that tone sent chills up his back.

Ivan let go of him abruptly.

And it was like the cold came rushing in on him, over his head, smothering him.

It was like being alone again.

No, it _was_ being alone again.

Matthew turned around quickly. Ivan stood a good two feet away from him. The Russian stared at him solemnly.

"You know I would never hurt you. You know I love you."

Matthew felt that cold settling in his heart again.

No, it couldn't happen again! He couldn't bear being alone! Never again! He wouldn't push Ivan away! That was what Gilbert wanted!

"I know," Matthew said, lunging forward and hugging the Russian as tightly as his thin arms could. "I know he's a liar. I'm sorry for hestitating."

"It's alright, little sunflower. It's alright. Beilschmidt is a wicked liar. You can't trust him," the Russian murmured in his ear. "I should do something about that pig."

"No!" the Canadian squeaked. "Don't hurt him! He isn't any harm."

Ivan pressed his lips against Matthew's neck. He smiled against the smooth skin.

"You're so sweet, my little sunflower! Not wanting to hurt and destroy those who deserve it!"

"Thank you for offering though," Matthew said, smiling.

"No problem. Anything for you, little Matvey."

They kissed, unaware of burning red eyes watching from behind his curtain.

Well, Matthew was unaware.

Ivan felt a glare aimed at him and he smirked a little, kissing his Canadian a little rougher than usual, nipping at his lips hard enough to bruise a little.

Just to show that Gilbert Beilschmidt who he belonged to.

And warning him to stay _away._

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><p><strong>Merry Christmas if you're Christian or are non-Christian and celebrate it anyway, like me. <strong>

**Fat Christmas. **

**Christmas in godless Russia. **

**Christmas in godlesser China.**

**Gay Christmas. **

**Christmas in Finland... where's that? **

**Whatever kind of Christmas you celebrate, have a good one. **


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING! RATING HAS GONE UP!**

**THIS IS NOW RATED M! SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER!**

**Everyone should know that I don't have Ivan's or anyone else's accents written cause I personally find accents annoying to read. It might seem out of character. Yeah, sorry about that. I only have his pronunciation of Matthew's name because it's a name. **

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><p>"<em>Who are you?"<em>

_"I told you. Ivan Braginski. And we're going to be lovers, Matvey."_

_Matthew didn't respond, but he did blush a deep red. _

_Ivan giggled. _

_"You are so cute!" _

Matthew didn't want to go home. And Ivan didn't want to part with him yet. So they went to Ivan's house. Not for the first time.

_"Where are we going? You can put me down," Matthew said weakly. _

_"No, no, no. That would be dangerous. It is very cold. You are not dressed appropriately. You must come with me to my house." _

Ivan had a very nice, big house. Matthew himself lived in an townhouse, so he wasn't used to such wide rooms and high ceilings and graceful arches and big windows and the nice set of French sliding glass doors in the back.

_Ivan shifted Matthew's body, supporting him with one hand and using the other to unlock the door to his house. _

_Matthew was placed on his white couch. He was staring straight up... at a crystal chandelier. _

_Was Ivan rich? It appeared so. _

Matthew sat down on the same couch. Ivan sat next to him.

_Ivan ran upstairs. When he came back down, he had a thick beige coat. Tenderly, he put it around Matthew's shoulders. _

_"Th-thank you. This is really- really nice," Matthew said,"And warm." _

_Ivan smiled sweetly. "So are you, love." _

"I wish they hadn't reacted like that. I knew Alfred would be a brat about it and Arthur would lose his mind and Francis would talk about romance or whatever. I just wish they were more understanding," Matthew said, leaning his head against Ivan's neck. The Russian put his arm around his shoulders.

"How can anyone understand how a relationship works from the outside? What we know, they don't understand. I know I love you and you know you love me. We don't need them to be able to tell as easily as we can," Ivan whispered. "We knew at first sight, didn't we, Matvey? You aren't some whore looking for affection from anyone or anything. You've never felt love before and you know what we have is true because of it."

_Or maybe this so called "love" is just your loneliness and desire for companionship and affection blinding you. _

Matthew flinched as this thought, which had Gilbert's voice, passed through his mind.

Damn Beilschmidt. His lies were infecting his thoughts.

_"You keep it." _

_"Are you sure, Ivan? This is such a nice coat-"_

_"It's a gift."_

_"But I don't even know who you are-"_

_"You will." _

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Ivan."

_"I-Ivan, I really appreciate this and all but I can't- I mean, well, love? It seems rather... hasty, don't you-?"_

_Matthew froze as Ivan leaned closer._

_Far. Too. Close. _

_His gloved hands rested on his thighs. _

_"Um, Ivan? Can you please-?" _

_Ivan pressed his lips against Matthew's. _

Ivan twisted his neck slightly, kissing Matthew's hair. Then going a little further, he pulled Matthew's face towards him, leaning down to gently kiss him.

_Matthew gasped in surprise, letting the Russian worm his tongue in, exploring every inch of his mouth. _

_It was so surprising, so sudden, so... loving. It wasn't needy or desperate. It was kind. Caring. Almost... loving. But that wasn't possible. It couldn't be love. He didn't know this guy! _

_But... it was the best thing he'd ever experienced. And it did feel like love, to someone like him, who'd never felt a passion like that before. _

_To his surprise, he was kissing Ivan back._

Ivan grasped Matthew's hand tightly as he began to kiss him earnestly. Matthew groaned. Ivan had never kissed him so hard, so _eagerly. _He felt a flicker of unease, but it was overcome by the desire for intimacy.

It was like the moment he thought of it was the moment the Russian lost control.

He wrapped both arms around Matthew's back, kissing him passionately, almost harshly. Matthew moaned, his fingers reaching up, first gripping his neck, then threading themselves through Ivan's hair. Ivan's hands fell to Matthew's lap, then his hips. He squeezed him gently and Matthew gasped, his grip on the Russian's hair tightening. Ivan stroked his sides for a moment before his fingers hooked under Matthew's shirt. The Canadian's breath hitched a little.

* * *

><p>"Let me go!"<p>

"No! Leave him alone! Let him calm down! Ouch! Alfred!" Francis complained.

They were locked in a bit of a wrestling match. Alfred had gotten stronger than his papa a long time ago, but he didn't want to hurt the Frenchman, so Francis could restrain him. Francis tried to hold him back and keep him from running out of the house after Matthew. He had a feeling Alfred would meet the Russian first and things would get ugly from there. "Alfred! He'll come back when he's ready! Leave him be!"

"Who knows what that dumb Russian's going to do to him? He doesn't know what he's doing! Let go!"

"Oh, like you do," Arthur said. "Listen if you try to force him to do anything he'll just push back. He's no pushover, you know. He'll resist if you try to split him and that Ivan fellow apart-"

"Ah, it's his French spirit," Francis said, mistakenly letting go of Alfred as his tone became dreamlike.

"No way!"

Alfred was out the door in a flash.

"Well bullocks," Arthur sighed. "Just great! That idiot is going to do exactly what my father did to me! And look who I ended up with!"

Francis pouted.

"Ohon? Am I really that bad?"

* * *

><p>Ivan ran his hand up and down the Canadian's slim figure, from his compact abdominal muscles to his thin waist and slender hips. He tugged the shirt free of his wiry frame.<p>

"Ivan, I- I don't know if we- should be-" the Canadian protested, slightly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing. He was so thin and pale. What was Ivan thinking-? "I mean, I- I don't think we should be-"

"Having sex?" Ivan purred into his ear. "It's for people who are in love. You love me right?"

* * *

><p>Alfred had a good idea of where he was going, though he did take a few wrong turns and ended up on the wrong street and having to go back and re-track.<p>

He knew where Ivan's house was, given the fact that he regularly made prank calls to the Braginski residence. Sometimes he tried to egg or T.P. the house, but actually going there in person was hazardous for his health, especially considering how last time Ivan had appeared at the window with a pickaxe and a murderous glare. He wasn't scared, but damn! Who knew what that Russian freak was thinking? He was almost certifiably out of his mind. Not that Alfred was scared of his fatass! Just that the Russian was... crazy.

But now he knew he had to go!

* * *

><p>"Ivan-?"<p>

"Shhh, Mattie."

"Shouldn't we- ah- lock the door or-?"

"No one's coming home. It's just us. It'll always be just us. Shhh, everything will be okay..."

* * *

><p>Alfred almost ran right passed it.<p>

But thankfully, he remembered which window he'd seen Ivan glaring out of. It was kind of hard to forget. Now he shivered. It had nothing to do with the weather, but the memory of a certain scary Russian glaring out at him, weapon in hand.

* * *

><p>"Matvey?"<p>

Matt groaned. He couldn't help it. The Russian was nibbling on his neck, sucking lightly on his collarbone. It was strangely erotic. The Russian was marking him, claiming him as his own. A spark of submissive arousal sent blood rushing to his head.

"You are truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Matthew's face blushed redder than the maple leaf on the Canadian flag.

Tentatively, he tugged at his boyfriend's scarf, gently pulling it off of his neck. Ivan made a small noise of surprise, but hummed in contentment as his little Canadian began to tug at his white turtleneck sweater.

* * *

><p>Alfred lunged at the door.<p>

* * *

><p>Ivan ceased his ministrations long enough to Matthew to pull his sweater off. Matthew stared at Ivan. He was... muscular. Extremely muscular. Not a speck of fat on him. His muscle mass made his own somewhat femine body seem oddly fragile and... twig-like. It was a little humbling.<p>

"Do you work out?"

For some reason this question made the Russian laugh.

* * *

><p>To his extreme surprise, it was open, sending him flying through the door. He heard laughter. That wretched voice. It was that Russian loser. Damnit! What a wretched laugh!<p>

He stormed into the room without any hesitation.

His blue eyes widened.

"Ahhhhhhh! Holy SHIT!"

* * *

><p>"Alf-"<p>

_"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"_

Matthew gave a yelp of surprise. He shoved himself away from Ivan, missing the hurt look on his face. He ended up pushing himself off the couch and onto the hard floor.

_"ARGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

"What do you think?" Ivan said calmly. He stood up slowly and without a flicker of embarrassment, he pulled his shirt and scarf back on. Unlike Matthew, who dove for his shirt, which had been discarded somewhere behind the couch. When he stood up, his shirt was covering his chest again, to Ivan's disappointment, and he looked ruffled, his cheeks a deep, bright red.

_"OH MY GOD THAT IS DISGUSTING, YOU FILTHY RUSSIAN DOUCHE BAG! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF WORTHLESS SHIT, YOU-"_

_"Enough, Alfred! Calm down! Quiet!"_ Matthew exclaimed, trying to interrupt his brother's loud rant. But the American started yelling even louder.

_"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WERE GOING TO SLEEP WITH HIM! I LEAVE YOU ALONG FOR TEN MINUTES AND YOU GO HAVE SEX WITH THIS BASTARD? WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" _

_"_Me? What's the matter with you?"

"Matthew, you crossed the line! You crossed the line!" Alfred shrieked. "What, are you some whore now?"

If you'd been standing outside the Braginski house, you would've heard wild yelling.

If your hearing was strong, you would've heard nasty thud, the sound of flesh against flesh.

Then you would've heard an abrupt silence.

"You had it coming," Ivan said sweetly. "I'm very glad Matvey punched you. Matvey is not a whore."

"Matthew, I had no idea you had that in you," Alfred said, cradling his bruised jaw. Then yelping in pain as Matthew punched his shoulder. He pouted at his twin, though the punch had been a lot lighter and far less painful than the one to his face.

"Asshole. Get out of here. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have followed me, you ass."

Alfred looked at his brother, his eyes full of hurt.

"Since when were you so mean?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and maybe I wouldn't be," Matthew said quietly. "And get out of here. I really don't want you here."

Alfred shook his head stubbornly.

"Who knows what you guys are going to do when I'm gone, huh? I'm staying or you're coming home!"

Wincing as pain flared. _Damn, I'm going to have a killer headache. _

"Alfred-"

"Alfred, Matvey doesn't want you here. The only reason you haven't been tossed out into the snow at this point is because he wouldn't want me to hurt you. But if you don't comply with his wishes right now, I will abandon this reasoning and beg his forgiveness later," Ivan said sweetly, tilting his head innocently, his eyes shut. The hostility clearly displayed.

Alfred tensed.

"No way! I'm not scared of a lardass like you! I'm here for my brother and he's coming with me! Yeah! I don't want to be in this creepy, ugly house! I just want you, bro! So come on! Let's go! I just want you home with me, 'kay?"

"It's not okay," Matthew whispered. "I don't want to go home. I just left. I don't-"

"Too bad!" Alfred yelled. "This little sex tryst is over! Dad and Papa want you home! Seriously!"

For a second, Matthew thought about denying him.

He thought about staying here for the night.

Get Ivan to shove him out the door. Leave them alone.

But... he really didn't want Ivan to hurt Alfred, which was what was going to happen, since his brother was definitely going to fight.

And... if he was honest, he really didn't want to stay here.

Because, again, if he was honest, he didn't want to be alone with Ivan.

_You don't want to have sex with him and if Alfred leaves, you know that's what's going to happen. _

That's not true, Matthew argued.

_I was enjoying it. _

_Hmph. That wasn't sex. That was fooling around. Do you really want to go the whole way, birdie? _

Birdie.

It was Gilbert's voice again.

Matthew threw Ivan a helpless glance.

"I'm sorry."

As soon as the two words escaped his mouth, Alfred grabbed his arm.

"Sorry, guess this isn't your night," he sneered at Ivan.

"Shut up, Alfred," Matthew murmured. "Sorry, Ivan. I'll see you later, alright?"

Ivan stared after him sadly. Pouting a little.

"Good bye, my love."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry if the scene reversals were hard to follow. <strong>

**So... I'm not very good at intimate scenes or moments... so please tell me how I did. Please? Were they awkward? Bad? Suckish? Silly?**

**Do you hate the cliffhanger? **

**Then answer my questions. **

**Thank you in advance. **

***pouts* last time I didn't get any reviews... probably because you guys were busy... and I have no life...**

**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED! THANK YOU FOR READING!**


	6. Chapter 6

Gilbert wasn't sure how.

But he did know that he had to.

He had to get that damnable Russian away from his Canadian.

It wasn't going to be easy.

The Canadian stuck to the Russian like glue.

People always used to look over Matthew's head (unless they were beating him up), but now that the Russian was there, they cowered in the hallways. He'd walk by, his arm around Matthew's waist or holding his hand, and no one would dare call them "faggots" or any other derogatory term for the gay community. No one dared make eye contact with the big, intimidating Russian who followed Matthew like a shadow. Bullying was effectively halted. No one dared come near him. And he was always with the Canadian.

Safe.

Gilbert himself enjoyed the torment of others.

It was simple, really.

He was so much better than the rest of them.

He was awesome.

And the rest of them?

They were so _pathetic. _He bullied others because he hated just how dull they were, how unsatisfied with themselves they were.

He, Gilbert, knew how awesome he was.

But no one else believed the same for themselves.

Just by knowing he was better than them, _made _Gilbert better than the rest.

And he wanted everyone to _know it. _

Matthew attracted him because he was so...

So awesome.

Yet he didn't seem to realize it.

He didn't seem to realize that he was smart and sweet and kind and the purest thing Gilbert saw in that wretched school.

Matthew didn't seem to realize how beautiful he was.

He was the one person Gilbert didn't actually hate with a passion for being so boring and stupid and unawesome.

Matthew was the one person he bullied the most, because if he was honest, he was afraid.

Afraid that if he fell in love with the Canadian, that this would make him as dull and as normal as the rest of them. That being in love with someone as awesome as him, would make him less awesome. That he'd be the kind of person he despised the most.

Bullying him, making him feel like _less _than he really was. And it made him less to _feel _less.

And Gilbert could admire him from afar, without feeling challenged.

Sure, in some way, he knew this was wrong. That he was twisted. That his logic was silly.

But he was too awesome to be wrong.

He firmly believed that.

So it must be true.

"Thanks for walking me to class, Ivan, but shouldn't you hurry? Your classroom is really far from here. You should-"

Matthew stopped speaking as his mouth was blocked.

Gilbert felt bile rise in his throat.

Disgusting. Disgusting Russian and his filthy lips.

Ugh.

Gilbert couldn't seem to look away, though.

No, it wasn't that disgusting Russian that hypnotized him.

It was Matthew. Matthew and his soft lips and so skin and soft face.

Being... kissed... somewhat aggressively... by that gargantuan freak.

He had to admit that there was something about the little, feminine boy being kissed by a psychotic, dominating giant that was hot. If that made any sense.

But no, he had to keep his head on the game. Eye on the prize.

"Who cares about class? I'll go out of my way if it means spending every second with you," Ivan purred. He patted Matthew's head with a gloved hand before waving as he turned and walked sedately away.

With an unnatural speed, Gilbert ran around the corner. He banged his shoulder a little on the corner of a locker, causing the boy to swing around in alarm.

But before he could even blink in surprise, a hand seized his collar.

And he was being choked.

Dragged by the shirt collar backwards.

"Le-"

A hand covered his mouth.

"Urf!"

Gilbert yanked him into the janitor's closet. It had been locked earlier, but he'd unlocked it just for this purpose. He let go of Matthew, then shoved him inside. He yanked the door shut, but opened it a crack a split second later. He peered out of this crack.

Good no one.

No one rushing by looking for Matthew.

The only two people who would've noticed Matthew's disappearance were either the cause of said disappearance or walking away, believing Matthew was in class.

Great. He had the Canadian to himself.

He flipped on the light switch.

"Beilschmidt! What are you do-?" Matthew gasped in pain as a fist smashed into his face, throwing his head into a metal shelf. He stumbled, both hands flying out to keep him from smacking into it. But Gilbert seized his hair- _how soft he was- _and bashed his face against the metal.

Ah. This was what he'd been missing.

Matthew fell to his knees, his nose bleeding, tears falling from his eyes and staining his clothing. Gilbert stared down at him, a smile creeping on his face as he watched Matthew's thin shoulders shake. But he didn't cry out in suffering. He just sat there, not standing up and fighting or trying to run. Just waiting. And something about that was arousing.

Gilbert crouched. He grabbed the blond's shoulder and forced him to face him.

"Gil-" Matthew froze as the albino pressed him lips against his.

Gilbert was... vicious. He attacked the blond's mouth with a fervid, sick lust. Matthew was completely limp and unresponsive. His eyes were wide.

This... was unexpected.

_He tastes better than I ever could've imagined. _

Gilbert greedily thrust his tongue all along the Canadian's mouth, wildly erotic and passionate, if not loving. Matthew didn't try to bite him or struggle. He was frozen.

But Matthew wasn't just a lonely, submissive kid anymore.

He was almost a different person, because for once, he had something he cared about.

Matthew put both hands on Gilbert's chest and shoved him off.

The albino's eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled back.

"Get off me," Matthew said furiously.

_I'm Ivan's and no one else is going to touch me. _

"When did you actually get some balls, birdie?" Gilbert asked coyly. "Are you sure you want to fight me? You know who would win."

"I'm not going to fight you. Leave me alo-" Matthew yelped as Gilbert lunged forward and punched him, shoving him backwards hard enough to dent the metal shelf behind him. Several cleaning items, bottles of cleanex, windex, etc. rained down on him as the Canadian fell to the ground. He covered his face, but Gilbert wasn't going to aim for it. He had too sweet a face to ruin with a nasty bruise. Instead, he brutally kicked the Canadian's stomach, repeatedly. Matthew groaned, gasping, yelping, but never screaming for help.

He lay on his side, catching his breath.

Gilbert crouched down again. He ran a finger down Matthew's cheek. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Why?" Matthew croaked.

The albino paused.

Matthew's cheek burned and he pulled his face defiantly away from Gilbert's finger. He faced away from the albino. "Why? Why are you hurting me? Why?"

Gilbert tilted his head. He fell to his knees and stroked his hair.

"Because you're so pathetic. And I'm so awesome. Oooh and guess what?"

Matthew curled tighter into himself, his body wracking with silent pain.

"No matter what the Russian says, you're mine. I staked my claim first."

He released his hair- _his hair, the softest thing he'd ever felt, like silk and velvet combined, no, not even comparable to anything else- _and stood up.

"Well I'd love to fuck you, but I have better things to do right now. You can stay here and cry or you can get up and go crying to your Russian. I don't honestly care. Awesomeness out."

Gilbert started to leave, reaching for the door handle.

"You-you're w-wrong."

The albino paused.

"I am Ivan's. And no one else's."

Gilbert smirked. Matthew never seemed to learn, did he? He resisted, for once in his life, but he still wasn't resisting for the right reason.

"Have you ever considered owning yourself? Belonging to yourself and no one else? Maybe you wouldn't be so pathetic then."

* * *

><p><strong>Prussia: Why'd you make me such a bastard?<strong>

**Me: Don't worry, it's not permanent.**

**Canada: It'd better not be. Not cool, making Gil out to be a monster. **

**ME: What, it's okay for Ivan to be?**

**Canada: Well... he's kind of scary.**

**Me: Yeah, but in my story, I'll explain why he's crazy in detail later. **

**Me (to the readers): So I hope it wasn't confusing to read Gilbert's thoughts? I had to edit a lot to get it to sound _just _right. But I'm still not sure if the meaning gets across. **

**So... did it?**

**And I wasn't lying to Canada, Russia's problems will be addressed later.**

**I just love the human mind and all its complexities.**

**But enough blabbing. I have another update to work on. **


	7. Chapter 7

"Matvey! Your face!" Ivan said with horror.

"It's nothing-"

"No, he's right, you look like someone beat you up! Who was it? I'll show him who's the hero!"

Matthew flinched as his brother stood up and pounded his fist against the table.

Ivan stared distastefully at the American. He hated sitting at the same table as the boy, but he had to, since Matthew had sat next to him. For whatever reason. Maybe Ivan was being suspicious, but he felt like Matthew was trying to avoid him by sitting at a table he knew Ivan wouldn't go within ten feet of. But no, surely that was silly. Why would Matthew be avoiding him? Ivan was sure Matthew was as lonely as he was without the other. Matthew always wanted to be with him. Maybe he was looking into it too much. Maybe Matthew just felt like sitting next to Alfred because they'd had a nasty fight recently and he wanted to make up for it. Matthew was sweet like that.

Then again, there was that bruise. That bruise that hadn't been there this morning.

"Matvey, you must tell me, who was it? Was it Beilschmidt?" Ivan said, his voice quietly menacing.

"N-no-"

"No way is it Gilbert! He's great!" Alfred said. "Anyone who acknowledges my greatness is as grea- I mean, almost as great as me! And he does. So I don't think he'd pick on my baby brother. He's too awesome for that."

"Thanks, Alfred," Matthew sighed.

Alfred didn't hear him or perhaps blocked him out. And Ivan? He looked murderous and was actually eyeing Alfred's neck, as if considering how it'd look with his fingers around it. Matthew noticed the look and felt the hostility underneath the polite, Ivan-is-content facade. He took Ivan's hand and squeezed it gently. Alfred stared at their hands like they were a poisonous snake. "Don't worry, I'm fine," Matthew murmured. Ivan smiled in appreciation and he visibly relaxed. Then tensed again. "Matvey, you were hurt today and I feel responsible. I should've been there to protect you. I'm sorry. Please tell me who it was. Was it Beilschmidt?"

Matthew shook his head.

His nose was swelling and his face was bruised fairly badly. Anyone could've done that.

But Ivan had seen Gilbert's work before. He knew what kind of bully Gilbert was. He was very good at reading people. He could guess their intentions and motivations for hurting other people. He knew Gilbert liked to kick Matthew's stomach while he lay curled on the floor because the albino liked to tower over the blond while hurting him because it made him feel superior, made him feel more "awesome." It sickened the Russian. And he knew just what to look for.

"Ivan-?"

Ivan let go of Matthew's hand and seized his shirt.

"Not here," Alfred hissed. "What the hell is the matter with you, you idiot?"

Ivan ignored him and pulled his shirt up.

"Ivan," Matthew exclaimed.

He was right.

Bruises on his stomach. Dark, abusive, horrible, terrible, savage colors, painting his chest.

Ivan felt it growing in his stomach. Growing, growing, growing, a gnawing, fierce hatred bubbling up inside of him, tearing his insides apart and slowly making its way to his mind.

"Ivan, wait, please, it wasn't Gilbert," Matthew pleaded. "Please, it wasn't him."

"MATTHEW! What happened to you?" Alfred shouted angrily. "_Who did this_? I'm going to beat them to a bloody pulp and then feed that pulp to Ludwig's dogs!" The American's eyes were furious and he started to rant and rave and swear and curse and make every threat known under the sun against the bully. But while Ivan felt his anger and for once, agreed with him, he wasn't in the mood to do anything Alfred was doing. He didn't feel like yelling. He felt like _doing. _

He glanced at Matthew.

"Okay, so it was him, but please, just leave him alone," the Canadian whispered. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

For a moment, Ivan considered it.

But then he saw something he hadn't noticed before.

Bruises. Bruises on Matthew's lips. Bitemarks, almost. They were very light, hard to see, but Ivan knew every curve and feature of his Matthew's face. He thought of it every day and saw it every day. When he went to sleep, he'd see that face before his eyelids and he'd dream of seeing it. He truly loved that face. And he could see that bruise like a lighthouse.

"Oh?" Ivan touched Matthew's lips gently.

Matthew flinched away from the touch.

"Oh, poor little Matvey. Is that why? Because he kissed you? Forced you? Is that why you lied to me?" Ivan asked sweetly, almost innocently. For a moment, Matthew just stared at him, biting his lips without thinking. Grunting as he accidently cut his lip. Ivan stared at his bloody lip with an odd fascination. Blood was a very beautiful color. It was so appealing, so attractive to Ivan. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't want it- I-" Matthew paused as the Russian stood up. "Ivan, where are you-?"

"Don't worry about it, Matvey. I don't blame you. Of course not! Silly, silly boy for thinking I would," Ivan giggled.

He started to walk away, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"What are you going to do, Ivan?" Matthew asked worriedly.

"Don't worry about it," Ivan replied. "I have business to attend to. Don't worry, Matvey."

Alfred looked up, finally quitting his wild ranting and proclamations of the "hero."

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Are you going to go beat up Mattie's bully? Cause I want some of that action!"

"No. You don't."

With that, the Russian walked away slowly, his sedate pace hiding the urgency and the raw anger and hatred he was feeling.

He had the motivation, he had his reason, he had his purpose.

Time to go pay Beilschmidt a visit.

* * *

><p><strong>For those who are wondering, I'm updating quickly because I hope that as this progresses, you'll get excited and pumped and maybe have something to say about this fic. <strong>


	8. Chapter 8

Ivan gently knocked on the door to Gilbert's classroom.

It wasn't Gilbert's lunch period, which was a bit of a disappointment, since the Russian didn't like the idea of waltzing into a classroom. It'd made discretely beating the shit out of the German (or Prussian? He claimed he was Prussian, but Prussia was Germany now) a lot harder. At least in the cafeteria he could drag him away into an unused hallway (probably the janitor's hallway; janitors were never in their hallway during lunch) and beat him up in seconds before slipping back to his Matthew. But here he'd have to take him out of class. And that was always a pain.

It swung open.

Lucky him. Gilbert Beilschmidt.

He had a bathroom pass. Perfect. Too perfect.

Ivan seized his shirt and yanked him through the doorway, pulling the albino off his feet completely. He threw him across the hallway, into a row of lockers with one hand, the other hand slamming the classroom door shut. The German boy was winded, but he didn't bent over wheezing. He just hid the slight pain in his spine. It was no big deal, really. He'd had a lot worse. Ivan glanced at the closed door. Good. No one was even looking out the tiny door window.

"What the fuck, man?" Gilbert complained. "Dragging me out of class? Throwing me into a locker? What's your fucking deal?"

"Leave Matvey alone."

A spark glinted in Gilbert's eye. Good. He was wondering when the Russian would confront him about it. Looking forward to it, actually.

"Ooh, just find out your little whore of a boyfriend wants me too?"

The Russian smiled.

Uh-oh. Gilbert knew that smile. Innocently disarming. And psychotic. His face might be smiling, but his eyes were closed, hiding his real feelings. And when he was smiling like that, his feelings were usually a form of or variation of hate, anger, ferocity, etc. None of these emotions boded well for any kind of physical confrontation, but hey, Gilbert had known what reaction he was going to stoke by kissing Matthew. He'd been counting on it, actually. He loved a good fight. Especially with someone like Ivan, who was not only strong and intimidating, but had a common goal. That goal being Matthew.

"You forced him."

"He didn't fight back."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah it does and you know it."

"Oh what do I know? I know that you want him. I've seen you eyeing him, I've seen you watching us, no, watching _him_. You act like you hate him, but you love him, da?"

"Right on some accounts. I know he's very fuckable. I know he's your bitch and he's weak and submissive and it turns me on. I know that sad, pathetic little bird clings to you because he isn't strong enough to fly on his own. I know I get off on his pain because he never fights back. And I just know that one day, we're going to fuck. And guess what? He's going to like it like the whore he is-"

The Russian's fist shot out. Gilbert didn't see it coming, but he was quick to react. He blocked the hit, but he was completely surprised by the second fist. He gasped as his stomach suddenly felt like it had been turned painfully inside out. He wasn't one to freeze in pain though. He raised his fist and it snapped out, catching the Russian's cheek. Gilbert had put all of his strength into the hit, but Ivan barely seemed fazed. His head snapped sideways, but he certainly didn't look pained or even affected. His fist went to punch Gilbert's stomach again. But the albino was quicker. He caught his fist, but only to keep it from hitting him. He knew that Ivan was a lot stronger, so holding his fist would not be smart.

Gilbert shoved his hand away, twisting his body out of the corner he'd been backed into. Finally, he had some space! His favorite fighting technique was kicking. He had a great deal of strength in his legs and it was definitely his advantage. He backed up a step, then, without letting Ivan come any closer, his leg lashed out. Catching Ivan square in the gut. The Russian grunted, bending over slightly, if not in pain, then at least winded. Gilbert lunged at him, his fist swinging in a wide arch, slamming into his temple.

The Russian paused, his breath slightly hitched. Gilbert giggled.

"Not so tough, are you? Don't feel bad. It's just because I'm so awes-" the Russian's hand shot out, catching the albino by surprise. It seized his throat, tightening painfully around his jugular, shoving him against the wall and suspending him with enormous strength. Gilbert was caught completely unaware. He choked something in a high pitched voice, but it wasn't pleading. Just surprised. He grasped at Ivan's hand and started kicking violently. And not the desperate flails of a dying man. No, his kicks were fierce and focused, aiming for the soft spots. Both legs came up together and thrust forward and for a split second, Gilbert felt the fingers around his neck loosen. But the Russian held firm.

And that's when the German began to panic.

Now his movements became strained and jerky as the lack of air began to tax on him. He was suddenly aware of those ominous black dots spotting his vision. They were blinking, throbbing, pulsing. Ivan's face was blurring. As were other details. His struggling was becoming weaker, but he still had energy and he'd be damned if he didn't use every drop of it to fight! He started his struggling with renewed vigor, putting all he had in the last second adrenaline rush, his legs really kicking now. His hands curled into fists and instead of curling around Ivan's hands at his throat, as was instinct, he punched at Ivan's face. It put a great deal of strain on his neck, without his hands holding and supporting part of his weight, but it was worth it. The Russian let go.

And Gilbert fell to the ground, completely spent. All of his energy had been last second, the last spurt, the final. But the fight wasn't over, far from it. Ivan had plenty of energy. He was losing, damnit! And awesome people did not lose!

Ivan towered over him, watching as he panted, trying to get the air flowing again.

Pain hit his face like a train as Ivan lashed out with his foot, kicking him straight in the cheek. The albino yelled out in pain, his temple smacking against the ground from the impact. He put his hand out and tried to get up, but Ivan swiftly kicked him against the wall with cold-hearted, cruel-eyed strength. "How does it feel to be the one on the ground, Beilschmidt? You are not as great as you believe, da? You believe you are 'awesome.' So am I right to assume that you feel Matvey is too good for you, too perfect for you? He is better than you and for a narcissist like you, this threatens and intimidates you, makes you uneasy about yourself. Well you should understand this. You are dirt. And Matvey? He is everything. He's worth more than you and your filthy scum of an existence."

Ivan kicked him again.

"Are you in love with him? You are, da?"

Gilbert shook his head, trying to project disdain. But his head was throbbing and he only managed to do defeated.

Which he was not! Geez.

"Well keep it to yourself. You two aren't going to interact anymore, every again."

"Yeah? What if he comes to me begging to fu-?" Gilbert stopped speaking as the Russian seized his throat again, smiling at him as he crotched, throttling the other.

"You are very stupid, da?"

"Ivan, stop it!"

Almost immediately, Gilbert could breathe again. Thank god, he was afraid he'd have to go through all that again. He glanced up.

And his heart fluttered a little.

Matthew was looking at him... with concern in his eyes. Real concern, real worry for his wellbeing, real care. His eyebrows were scrunched and his mouth grimaced at his boyfriend, his eyes pained. His hair cast a yellow halo over his head, light flashing off his glasses and giving his violet eyes a sparkle. He looked... well, to be corny and truthful, Gilbert had to say (in his mind) that he looked like an angel. An angel of mercy. His angel.

"Ivan, what are you doing?" Matthew demanded. "Gilbert, are you okay?"

Gilbert didn't reply, closing his eyes and trying to summon some energy. But he really had none. That damnable Russian was strong.

"I was-"

"You were trying to kill him!" Matthew almost yelled. "Ivan, how could you?"

"I care for you, Matvey. He deserved punishment-"

"Death? Is that your punishment?"

Gilbert stared at Matthew. The Canadian looked so angelic, so perfect, so incredibly sexy, so incredibly _awesome. _

It shook his core.

He suddenly felt that itch, that urge to hit, to rend, to destroy. He wanted to see blood and bruises on that white skin. He wanted to see pain in those sparkling eyes and suffering in his graceful, perfect movements.

Gilbert stood up shakily.

Matthew looked at him.

"Gilbert-?"

Gilbert gritted his teeth.

But now that he was standing, now that he was actually eye to eye with the blond, for once, he felt like he could actually _see. _

He could actually _see _the beauty, the human aspect. This boy was human. He felt pain. He was no god. He wasn't perfect. He had split ends in his hair, he had skin blemishes, his glasses made his eyes look too wide. He was human. All the pain Gilbert had felt a second ago, he'd been inflicting on the Canadian for _years. _His pain was Gilbert's pain. He couldn't bring himself to hurt the other boy. He just couldn't. And this? This was a first.

And Gilbert, though he would say otherwise later, turned tail and ran.

With an energy he didn't know he had.

"Wait, Gil, where are you going? Gilbert! Gil!"

He kept running. Running until his lungs felt they could burst and his legs collapsed under him. Running until he thought he could escape his realization.

"Ivan, let go!"

Running until he thought he could escape his problems and troubles and worse, his _mistakes._

But when he collapsed down on the sidewalk a few blocks from the school, he didn't realize that his problems and failures and mistakes and troubles... were following him.

"Gil!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Details: So I wrote the fight scene with a lot of detail because I personally find fighting very revealing. When you're fighting someone, you can tell a lot about a person. Ivan's style of fighting is slow and strong and solid. He is calm and he is hard to hurt. But when he's very, very angry, his fighting style changes like his personality. His brutal strength is savage and wild and fast. He can be calm and collected and hard to hurt, then invincible and scary the next. But maybe that's just me. That's kind of how I see it. And how I will attempt to portray it.<strong>

**But the scene here isn't Ivan being angry. You'll know when he's fighting angry. I plan on making it terrifying.**

**Anyway, this might be going too fast... I'm not sure though. **

**I hope it didn't get too convoluted or too complex to follow. **

**Oh and finally, there's going to be some PruCan. That isn't forced. ****In the next chapter. **

**Prussia: Canada's not that weak. **

**Me: I'm not trying to make him look weak, I'm just trying to write an angsty story and since Canada's personality is so sweet and nice, he seems kind of-**

**My friend: UKE!**

**Me: Yeah. Kind of. **

**My friend: Canada as uke is just too cute. He's so vulnerable and Prussia's so aggressive. It's sexy. **

**Me: You just like Prussia as seme.**

**My friend: Yeahhhh. **

**Me: You're a weirdo, you know. **

**My friend: You're the one writing this weird story!**

**Me: O.O Touche. **


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew felt bad.

Ivan had seemed so heart-broken when he'd yanked his arm free of his grasp and had started running after Gilbert. It had hurt a little bit to see. But Ivan... Ivan had been trying to kill Gilbert. Granted, Matthew would've been okay if Ivan had started a fight, but that hadn't been a fight, it had almost been a murder. Ivan was going too far. Matthew appreciated the gesture, but... no, he didn't appreciate it. No, he did not like Gilbert. But he didn't want to see the albino dead. Maybe a little bruised or beaten up, but not dead.

He ran after Gilbert because there was something odd about his face. An odd... vulnerability to it that for some reason called out to him. When Gilbert collapsed on the ground, Matthew paused. He wasn't sure how Gilbert would react if he got close. How defensive would he be? Would he lash out aggresssively? He hesitated. But he hadn't followed Gilbert out here, breaking school rules and possibly his boyfriend's heart for nothing. He had to say something, _do_ something.

"Gil!"

Gilbert gritted his teeth.

"You have bad timing, birdie," he grunted.

Matthew didn't care.

"Are you okay, Gil?"

The Canadian's eyes widened.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Gilbert had stood up really quickly. His crimson eyes were strained and his teeth were gritted and he looked like he was in a great deal of pain.

"What's wrong with you?" the albino shrieked at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me?" Matthew asked, bewildered. "What-?"

"Why do you pretend all the time? Is it all a lie? Have you been faking?"

Gilbert's eyes were wild and it scared the Canadian to no ends.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he protested. "What do you mean, faking?"

Suddenly Gilbert relaxed.

"Nevermind. It's nothing. I just lost my mind for a moment. Just lost my mind, just lost my mind for a second. Oh la la la la I'm awesome."

Matthew stared at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Um, did Ivan punch your head too hard or something?"

"Ivan's a loser!" Gilber shouted. "And he didn't win that fight!"

"Okay, if you say so," Matthew shrugged.

The albino turned and stared at him, suddenly furious. He grabbed Matthew's collar and pulled him closer. The Canadian flinched, but Gilbert had no intention of hurting him.

"You see? I just called your boyfriend a loser! And I just said I won the fight when really you saved my ass. And all you do is let me have my way and yell all I want! What the hell is your deal? Don't you have a backbone? Seriously, it's like you welcome people to roll right over you! It's so pathetic it's sad!"

The albino breathed heavily, through his mouth and his nose. He hadn't taken a single breath during that entire rant. He wondered if Matthew heard and understood all of it. Whew, his head felt empty. It was throbbing a little and he found it a little hard to focus. But he did do his best.

"Have you ever considered that confrontation isn't always the best strategy? I didn't deny what you said because I didn't think it was worth my time. You would just yell at me about being awesome and being right all the time or whatever. It wasn't worth the fight," Matthew concluded. "Besides, you're so pathetic you should cling to false hopes."

Gilbert froze, his eyes widening. For a moment, Matthew thought Gilbert would hit him and he wouldn't have minded, since he wasn't going to take it back. Then he realized just how odd that was. He'd never intentionally tried to get someone to hit him.

Then the albino began to laugh.

"You do have some guts after all, birdie. Here I was thinking you were some pussy faggot, but man, you're something else!"

Matthew looked away.

"Don't call me a faggot."

"Oh? Why not?"

Matthew sighed, standing up.

"Oh well, guess it was only a one time thing."

Matthew didn't pay him any attention. He was clearly fine. Why Matthew decided to follow him out here in the first place was a mystery.

"Wait!"

The Canadian sighed, but he did wait. Knowing he was going to regret it.

"Why do you... love Ivan?" Gilbert asked. "What's so great about that Russian basta-about _him_?"

Matthew paused.

"If I answer, will you answer my question?" Matthew asked.

"Sure, I just did."

Matthew ignored the snarky answer. He started to go back to school again.

"Wait, don't be so senstive, I was just messing with you. Now what's the question?"

"Why do you hate me?"

Matthew heard Gilbert get up and he heard light tapping as he stepped closer.

"Are you going to answer me?" Gilbert breathed against his ear. "I'll answer your question."

"I love him because he loves me. He cares about me. He's so sweet and he's so kind-" Matthew gasped as a tongue flicked against his ear.

"Not a good answer. Tell me why you really love him," Gilbert paused, but it was pretty obvious he wasn't going to let Matthew speak. "It's because you're alone. And he's the first person who's ever paid attention to you, actually seeing you and actually caring for you in a way no one ever has. You don't care what he does to you. You'll do anything for him. I think you know you're his bi- his tool and nothing more. You know it."

Matthew shivered slightly as something warm and wet prodded his neck.

"Are you going to answer me, Gilbert?" he said, neither denying nor confirming Gilbert's theory.

"No. I answered my question. So you have to answer yours. Why do _you _think I hate you?"

"Stop it," Matthew said, flinching away from him and his tongue. "Don't touch me."

Gilbert did, but he was still waiting for his answer.

"I don't know why-"

"Come on, Mattie, you're not an idiot."

"Okay, fine! I think you hate me and hurt me because you think I'm pathetic. You think I'm weak and submissive and _less _than you. But at the same time, you're insecure about yourself. You hide it behind this 'I'm awesome' facade, but it's there and you're always going after me because it makes you feel better about yourself. How was my theory? Honestly, I don't know why you hate me and I don't care. I just know you do. Why don't you tell me? My question is more important than yours. My relationship with Ivan has nothing to do with you. It's none of your business, unlike my question-"

"What if I want it to be my business?" Gilbert interrupted.

"What?" Matthew asked. "What do you mean?"

"I don't hate you."

Gilbert walked quickly, walking around Matthew and standing in front of him, forcing him to stop. The albino was taller than him and he looked down at the sweet, bewildered face. "I don't hate you," he said gently. "I never did."

And very, very slowly, giving Matthew the chance to push him away or stop him- _if he wanted- _he pressed a kiss against the blond's lips.

The kiss was so... kind.

So gentle.

So loving.

Like Ivan's kiss, only... different.

Matthew couldn't quite place it.

When Gilbert pulled away, smirking broadly, all Matthew could process was his heartbeat. Beating louder, louder, louder until it filled his head, blocking out everything else.

Gilbert. Had. Kissed. Him.

And he'd enjoyed it.

"What-? What the-? What the fuck!" Matthew screeched. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a bitch?"

Gilbert looked surprised at his language.

"What's the problem, birdie?"

Matthew lunged at him and punched his shoulder.

"What the fuck? What the fuck? I thought you hated me, you made me think you hated me and then you go- then you go screwing... with my head, I- what the hell is your problem?"

And the Canadian burst into tears and ran away.

Leaving Gilbert with an odd mix of satisfaction and guilt.

But with no regret.

Not a lick of regret.

* * *

><p><strong>...<strong>

**...**

**...**

**Maple? **

**Thanks so much to Brookie cookie17! Thanks so much for reviewing so many times at once. **

**And thanks to the other repeat reviewers for showing their support.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Beep! Beep! There's mentions of sex! But not boy on boy, just plot constructive, so don't get too excited, dirty fangirls. JK! Just playing with you. **

**Please enjoy and review:**

* * *

><p>"Matvey? What's wrong?" Ivan asked, wrapping his thick arms around Matthew, who had tears running down his cheeks.<p>

"No-nothing. Listen, Ivan, I'm really sorry for earlier-"

"Don't be. I understand. You have a tender heart. You went after him because you're so kind you won't even consider treating your enemies like the scum they are," Ivan said reassuringly, almost jokingly. Matthew smiled, snickering a little. "I'm too nice, huh?" he sighed, his grin a little bitter. "Another reason I'm such a weakling."

He gasped as he felt hands gripping his stomach, interlocking with each other into an inescapable mesh. He felt Ivan's chin in his hair.

"Don't ever mistake kindness for weakness," Ivan murmured. "You are a good person. And that's not a flaw."

Matthew blushed, suddenly warm and flattered and a tad embarrassed.

"Um thanks," he said.

"There is something I'd change about you, though. But it's not a flaw. It's just something that frustrates me deeply. Your need to protect people who don't deserve it. What did Beilschmidt do? I know he said or did something because you were crying. I hate to see my Matvey cry. Remember, you can trust me."

"No really, it's nothing," Matthew insisted.

"Matvey, to me, it's not nothing. Now what did he say? What did he _do?" _Ivan's voice grew menacing.

"He-he just kept talking about himself and his glory and how much lower I am and how pointless my existence is. I just got so frustrated and tired of it, so I ran away. Like I always do," here Matthew sighed. He was trying to make his lie convincing. Honestly, he couldn't say he didn't know why he was lying to Ivan. He knew exactly why. Something about that moment he wanted to keep to himself. The kiss. He wasn't sure what to make of it yet. It hurt, but not physically and that was what confused him. He wanted to think about it later, but right now, he didn't want Ivan to be upset.

But was Ivan seeing passed the cover?

"Hmm. Gilbert Beilschmidt. That asshole. Why can't I kill him for you? It'd be so much easier without him around."

Matthew laughed, half in relief, half in amusement and half in uneasy tension.

"Right. But we're not going to do it, right, Ivan?" he asked, only half joking.

"What? Oh sure, sure, absolutely," Ivan said, only half kidding. He was a little suspicious, but... Matvey wouldn't lie to him, would he?

No, no, his Matvey loved him.

And maybe feared him a little.

But that was alright.

Everyone did.

As long as he knew he was loved, it didn't matter if fear was present too.

If anything, it was better.

* * *

><p>Gilbert exhaled deeply.<p>

Then inhaled.

Then exhaled just as deeply.

Damn! That kiss had spun his head around! He felt like he was flying. But not the kind of drug-inhanced fantasy flying. Like every molecule of his being was suddenly happy and satisfied with his life. Like his being was justified. Like every drop of his blood was electrified. Like he'd finally done the one thing he'd always wanted to do! Like his life was complete! Like he was finally as awesome he always believed and told himself he was!

But like a drug experience, once it's over, that after-buzz feeling fades and everything looks boring again. He gradually calms down.

And he stops feeling like a dork.

Why was he reacting like this?

He wasn't some little girl who'd had her first kiss.

No, he was Gilbert fucking Beilschmidt! He wasn't even a virgin anymore!

So why did a silly little kiss have his head spinning and throbbing? Why was this the best kiss he'd ever had, the best intimate moment he'd ever had, when it was just a kiss and it had lasted a second?

That kiss.

Gilbert touched his lips, a little bemused.

Amazing. He even thought Matthew had started to respond before coming to his senses.

Gilbert sighed dreamily, feeling like a teenage girl with a crush.

Well, it was no crush.

He was in love with the Canadian.

Always had been, but now, things were-

Suddenly his thought process froze.

What the hell was he thinking?

In love? With Matthew?

No. He couldn't allow it. It couldn't happen.

What had changed?

_Nothing, _his inner voice told him.

_Exactly! Nothing's changed! Nothing's different! _

_You're just saying that because you know that nothing's the same anymore. And you're scared of change. The moment you kissed him like that, you knew there was no going back! And that scares you! So what now? You're in love with someone you're afraid is better than you, right? And that makes them better than you, doesn't it? _

Gilbert tugged at his white hair, his outward appearance not revealing the insanity within.

_But he himself doesn't believe it, right? So why is your "awesomness" threatened? Why so angry, Gil? Why so upset? You love him and you know it. Why deny it? What, you think by denying it, you can make it not so? _

A girl walked passed him.

She has a nice ass, he thought absentmindedly, as the girl walked by. Throwing a coy look over her shoulder, blond hair cascading down her back into graceful curls, she flutters her deep blue eyes.

Blue.

It was a lovely color, but it didn't make his heart flutter.

No, those eyes didn't capture him.

_You never even used to care about people's eyes before him. Eyes are the doors to the soul, right? Every time you looked into those eyes and saw pain, you knew him, inside and out, because the person he was, is what you made him to be. He's the way he is because of you. The person he is now, is Ivan's. He was yours before, wasn't he? But now he's Ivan's. And you're going to lose him. He's not yours anymore._

_He was never mine! _Gilbert replied.

He does her, of course. Gilbert would have sex with any girl who offered herself to him. And this girl? She was clearly looking for a good time and he would deliver.

_Even if he was never yours, you thought he was, didn't you? And what you think, is right, right Gil? If you believe it's so, then it is. That's your theory. _

They had sex in her car. It's not very original (Gilbert had had sex in crazier places), but Gilbert feels excitement well up in his chest. It's the thrill, the fear of being caught that excites him. Not this girl. She wasn't what he wanted. She was just something he'd mess around with until he was done.

She wasn't something he'd get to know, care about, hold close to him in the night, come to _love. _

_But the awesome Gilbert couldn't love anyone, could he? He can't care about anyone but himself. _

His inner voice is disgusted with him. And he is disgusted himself.

He feels like he's cheating on someone.

Matthew was not his! They weren't dating, they weren't in love and they absolutely hated each other.

The girl groaned. Gilbert Beilschmidt! Other girls had told him how rough he could be, but this was just intense! He was rough and he was wild and crazy and she just loved it!

Gilbert was a little disgusted by how much she was enjoying this.

Slut.

But really, could he say he was any different? Just having sex for the sake of having it?

He wasn't even enjoying it. Just doing it to spite himself.

_You may not be cheating on Mattie, but you are cheating on yourself. You know this isn't what you want and you're still doing it anyway. That feeling of betrayal? It's you, betraying your own feelings. It's you, Gil. And that's a problem._

With a jolt, Gilbert realized it was Matthew's voice.

* * *

><p><strong>O.O<strong>

**O.O**

**O.O**

**H...O...L...Y...S...H...I...T**

**I'm so sorry for the lag! I wasn't going to update today because I've had nasty writer's block for the passed week, but then I saw Hetalia: Paint it White! on TV and suddenly, I realized I was awful! How could I leave this story off for so long? I'm so sorry. **

**And I'm worried about my writer's block and all the homework that requires all my creativity and life and saps all the stuff that should be going into my writing. **

**So right now, I'm a ball of stress sitting on stresss, surrounded on stress. My eyes are literally bulging out of my head right now. **

**But those are my problems. They aren't really yours, so I'll stop whining. **

**All you really need to know is that I might be slow in updating. **


	11. Chapter 11

"Yo! Assface! Out of the car!"

Gilbert groaned.

He pushed the girl away from him without a care and sat up, looking out the window.

Oh great. This asshole.

"Beilschmidt! Leave your whore inside and come and face me like a man, you fucking pussy!"

Gilbert gritted his teeth.

Great, just great. He had to deal with this douche bag. He was so not in the mood for this shit.

He yanked his pants on and tugged his shirt over his head, taking his time and ignoring the furious American screaming at his window.

"Is that Alfred Jones?" the girl asked, not even bothering with her shirt, only smiling at Alfred wearing only her bra and panties.

"Yeah. He'd probably screw you too, if you asked him," Gilbert said rudely. "Don't you have any decency? Put a shirt on or something."

The girl rolled her eyes.

"You are as rude as everyone says. I don't know why you've gotten laid so many times-"

"Because I'm friggin' awesome, that's why."

Slowly, Gilbert pushed the door open.

And suddenly two hands seized his shirt and threw him to the ground. He landed on his feet, stumbling a little and knocking his head against the car parked besides the car he'd so rudely left a second before. "The fuck?" Gilbert moaned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? Wrong with _me? _What's wrong with you, you stupid fucking Nazi?" Alfred Jones, Matthew's brother, screamed at him. Gilbert eyed him. He straightened his back until he was at his full height. He and Alfred were about the same height. Gilbert studied him. How could someone who looked so much like Matthew be so different? Alfred was an asshole. Which was why Gilbert had always liked him. He could see some similarities between himself and Alfred, so he personally felt the American was fairly awesome. But not as awesome as his brother.

"I thought we were friends! What the hell have you been doing to Mattie, you sick twisted fucker?"

Gilbert stared at him.

No way was he apologizing. He wouldn't apologize to Mattie and he sure as hell wasn't apologizing to his brother.

"Dude, you were so awesome. Don't drag yourself down by being some pussy-"

"Pussy? You fucking bastard, I'll kill you!" Alfred lunged at him, but Gilbert dodged sideways. The American swore as his fist collided with the car door. He was very, very strong and he'd put all of his force into that punch, so it had hurt twice as much as that hit would've if it had collided with its intended target. "Gaah!" the American cried. "Beilschmidt!"

* * *

><p>"Care to explain why I'm seeing you again, Jones?" the principal sighed.<p>

"Yes! For a good reason, this time, I swear-!" Alfred shouted.

"You say that all the time," the principal said exasperatedly.

"But this time I have a good reason for starting a fight on school grounds! Gilbert's been bullying my brother! I was just defending him!"

"What?" Gilbert squawked. "I was having sex in the parking lot. I mean, in the car. I wasn't even near your brother!"

"You know what I mean! Earlier today! Yesterday! Maybe even before that! So not awesome, Beilschmidt! Leave my brother alone! I thought you were my friend, you Nazi son of a bitch!"

"Alfred!" the principal snapped. "Don't use that word!"

Alfred didn't even look at him.

"If you ever touch my brother again, I'll beat you to death again!"

"Again? As if you managed the last time-!"

They began to argue back and forth, their replies progressively getting nastier and louder.

The principal sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

These kids were aging him twice as fast.

These two had been in this office more times than he could count, whether seperately or together.

* * *

><p>"Uh-?" Matthew froze at his door.<p>

His family all froze as well, for once noticing his presence. Alfred looked like he'd been in the middle of an outraged fit, his wide eyes almost crazy, his mouth open in protest. Francis's eyes were sad, pitying and upset, as opposed to Arthur, whose eyebrows were scrunched in annoyance, rage and frustration. His eyes narrowed as his attention honed onto Matthew. "Matthew! Alfred just told us Gilbert Beilschmidt has been bullying you! Is that true? Why didn't you tell us?"

"My poor Matthieu, why didn't you tell-?"

"That damned Nazi bastard-"

"Don't use that word!"

"Sorry! Anyway, Beilschmidt is so dead the next time I see him!"

"No, he's not! We should talk to the principal and see if we can get him suspended-"

"No, fuck that! You know that won't work! No, we have to beat him black and blue!"

"I think you're both stupid wankers. Matthew, how did this start? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why couldn't you tell?" Matthew burst out.

His family froze again.

"Why did you have to figure it out? Why didn't you just notice? Why can't you just _notice_?" the last word had a sad, almost keening desperation to it.

"Matthew... I know you're... not always on the edge of everyone's minds, but... we don't ignore you. It's not like-like- we-uh, don't-"

"It's not like we don't care," Francis interrupted his husband. "It's just that... well-"

"Yeah, I get it," Matthew sighed.

"When did he- what did he do?" Alfred asked, his voice unusually soft.

"What do you think?" Matthew whispered. He hesitated, then pulled his shirt up, letting his family see what they hadn't seen, what he hadn't shown, what he'd felt for so many years and kept bottled up inside. He figured they'd leave him alone if they saw and knew. As long as he didn't need to explain it to them. It was hard enough to go through, much less talk about it. And it was even harder to think about, because the moment he did was the moment he felt like he was cheating on his boyfriend. Because the moment he thought of his bully, he thought about that kiss at the same time.

Vaguely, he heard his family talking loudly. Francis was upset and Arthur and Alfred were yelling something.

Same old, same old.

They'd get angry, make a few calls, then forget about him.

Same old, same old.

Sometimes he wondered if it hurt or if it just happened and he witnessed it, day after day. Day after day after day.

Either way, he couldn't feel it anymore.

"And we'll have him expelled-"

"No!" Matthew exclaimed. "No!"

Francis look startled.

"Matthieu, you don't have to be afraid-"

"I'm not afraid! Don't complain about him, okay? He's alright. He's just- I- he's just... misunderstood. I-I think we settled it today and I-"

"Settled it? He beat the daylights out of you!"

"I'm used to it," Matthew murmured darkly.

Alfred's face immediately crumpled.

And to the astonishment of everyone present, he began to cry.

"Al-Alfie?"

Immediately, Matthew's dark mood lightened immediately. He was a gentle soul and seeing his brother cry didn't give him any satisfaction at all. He walked tentatively over to his brother, who immediately flung his arms around his brother's shoulders and tugged him close.

"I'm so sorry," he groaned. "I'm so sorry I let this happen! I'm not the hero! I should've saved you from him-!"

He broke off into hiccuping.

"It's alright, it's alright," Matthew sighed. "It wasn't your fault."

"But it was! I should've been there! I'm so sorry! I should've been there for you and I'm sorry! I'm a terrible brother and a terrible hero and I'm so sorry! Please forgive me-!"

"Get ahold of yourself," Arthur said, somewhat irritated. "Matthew, what do you mean, you don't want to get this Beilschmidt boy suspended?"

Francis clucked like a hen. He scooted forward in his seat and pulled Matthew's shirt up again. His eyes darkening with sorrow as he saw the abuse inflicted upon his poor son. "Mon dieu, mon poor child," he simpered. "You poor child, how could you keep this from us?"

Matthew sighed.

All this fuss.

He'd already been damaged.

There was no going back now.

Maybe if they'd had this reaction, a long time ago, something could've been done.

But not now.

"Listen up! All of you! This is going to stop now, okay? I'm going to deal with it on my own."

"No you aren't!" Arthur said indignantly. "You clearly can't handle it on your own, judging by how long this has gone on. Let us help you Matthew. If you just let us help you, then maybe we can show you we do care. Honestly, if you don't give us a chance, then how can we meet your expectations? Don't suffer in silence-"

"I'm not," Matthew murmured. "Just... just trust me, okay? Let me handle this on my own."

As soon as he was done saying it, his family protested, but he blocked them out.

And it struck him at that moment.

He truly did mean it.

He was going to handle this on his own.

This wasn't that much of a shock. It had always felt like he was on his own.

But what struck him, was that he felt like standing up for himself. Actually standing up on his own two feet and going to try and solve a problem on his own.

He'd never considered doing such a thing, not before Ivan.

But this time... he actually wanted to stand up for himself, not anyone else.

And... it felt good.

He wanted to figure out his feelings. He wanted to figure out Gilbert's problems and his own problems.

All on his own.

_How pathetic. _

This voice didn't sound like Gilbert's. It sounded like his own voice, nagging, self-hating.

It was pathetic. He'd never been able to stand up for himself. The only time he had, was for Ivan.

How sad. He couldn't do it for himself, so he did it for someone else.

_It's not pathetic. Being alone makes you hurt more than anyone on the outside can understand. Willingly choosing to be alone and stand alone is a helluva lot braver than facing the loneliness alone because you have to. So shut the fuck up! _

There. That was Gilbert.

_Besides, that Russian bastard cares about you, even if I think I do more. Fighting for someone else is better than fighting for nothing at all. I like the brave you, even if it's just standing up to me. _

Something about that last few words sounded sad, almost regretful.

Damnit! Why was he hearing Gilbert in his head?

What was the matter with him?

Why was he hearing Gilbert's voice?

And worse... why did he feel comforted by this voice?

* * *

><p><strong>I did it again. I am so sorry. I made you wait a long time. So sorry... I feel so bad... I'd hate waiting this long for an update. <strong>

**So sorry. **

**I can't express in writing for how sorry I am.**

**sorry for how short and crappy this update is and how long it took. **

**Apologies. I beg your forgiveness! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Alright, I realized I spent too much time focused on psyche. I'm going into the physical now, just to prove that my plot isn't entirely mental. I can do the action plot too.**

**I'm so sorry. I can't believe I made you wait. **

**And those who liked Sometimes Love is Unawesome... hang in there... I'm on my way...**

**By the way, I have no idea how to cook a hamburger, so I apologize if someone does something that wouldn't be possible in a kitchen.**

* * *

><p>"Come on! Help me beat the crap out of Beilschmidt! We'll both have fun! You can hold him back and I'll punch him in the gut!"<p>

Alfred was having an intense stare down with his brother's Russian boyfriend, who simply sat there and stared evenly at him. They were sitting as far from one another as possible, on opposite sides of the couch. Matthew was in the bathroom and there was a romantic movie playing on their television. You'd think it had been the happy couple that had chosen the movie, but it was actually Alfred, who couldn't stand watching a horror movie at night. Not movies like Friday the Thirteenth. Alfred liked those movies. It didn't scare him because Jason wasn't a ghost.

"He's your boyfriend! He needs me- I mean us! He's a masochist, man. He needs a hero! He needs me! And you can be my back up! I can see it, dude. I'm the hero, of course, and you can help me out! Every hero needs help, even if it's the creepy Russian Hulk guy who seems like a bad guy."

"He is not as weak as you think," Ivan murmured.

"Haha. Listen, you should be glad I'm not beating you for not protecting him properly in the first place! What kind of boyfriend are you?"

"He told me not to hurt Beilschmidt and I trust him to deal with it on his own," Ivan murmured. "Maybe you should trust Matvey, you disgusting arrogant pig."

"I trust him, but he's- he needs me!" Alfred insisted.

"He's never needed you before," Ivan replied.

"Yeah he does! It's pretty obvious he's always needed my help! And you're- you're truly an asshole if you don't help kill Gilbert with me!"

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"I don't care for your opinion, you dirty savage. I know Matvey-"

"Say his name right, you commie bastard! IT'S MATTHEW! MATTHEW! THAT'S HOW YOU SAY HIS NAME, NOT MATWEY, YOU STUPID IDIOT! I don't even need your help, I was just offering some redemption for your fatass"

Ivan scowled, but said nothing. Why get into this with this moronic American muscle head? No point in arguing with the lower life form.

When Matthew came down, he didn't know there had been an argument at all.

Ivan was sitting, staring at the TV motionlessly and Alfred was laughing at something going on the screen.

He didn't notice how tense Ivan's hands were, curling into fists.

And he didn't notice how forced Alfred's laugh was (mostly because Alfred's laughs were so loud and so drawn out they all seemed forced to him).

He went to sit down between them and Alfred prepared to pounce. He was planning on grabbing his brother and tugging him closer to himself, but before he can even move, Ivan seizes Matthew and daringly pulls the Canadian onto his lap. Matthew starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat as he sees Ivan glance tauntingly at Alfred, who seems to be having a conniption. A violent, inner conniption. He gritted his teeth, his face in a pained smile almost, the muscles twitching in his face with repressed rage. He doesn't want to start a fight, he really doesn't, but if that Russian pushes him any more, hell would break loose!

Matthew sighs.

"Don't tease him," he says to Ivan.

Ivan hums happily to himself, putting his broad chin on Matthew's head.

"You are so adorable," he coos.

Matthew can't help but smile.

"Oh, you guys are disgusting," Alfred says, his nose scrunching. "All this lovey-dovey crap!"

Ivan tenses, but Matthew pats his hand.

"Alfred's just jealous he can't maintain a relationship for longer than fourteen days," Matthew says.

Ivan chuckles, his eyes narrowing as he laughs at the American.

But Alfred just shrugs.

"There's no shame in my game," he says. "Hey Ivan, you think that's funny? At least I get laid, whereas you've been in a dry spell since... oh wait, you never got any in the first place."

"Careful, American," the Russian murmurs. "Matvey is mine. Do you really want to test my patience?"

"Wha-? You bastard! You think of him as a possession don't you, you fucking bastard? How'd you feel if I banged your sister, huh? The one with the gigantic boobs? Actually, I kind of like Natalya better, but either one would make you understand what a bastard you are right now!"

Matthew sighs as they start bickering.

He stands up.

"Oh wait, Mattie, don't leave!"

"Matvey, I'm sorry-"

"He's just being a bast- I mean, I'm just- sorry, I-"

"Matvey, I'll even apologize to the bast- I mean, your brother, if you want!"

"I'm just going to get a snack from the kitchen," Matthew said.

"Oh," they said in unison.

"Make me a hamburger then!"

"He's not your maid."

"I never said he was! I'm just saying that since he's going already-"

They continued bickering and Matthew just rolled his eyes and walks into the kitchen. When he'd offered a night for Alfred and Ivan to maybe "get to know each other better," he'd known the night would be a little disastrous. He was hoping the result would be a mutual respect. He was actually hoping this result would happen by morning, but the way the night was going at the moment wasn't encouraging. He wondered if he was stupid or just naive for thinking that putting them together in one room would help their hosility towards one another.

They just didn't fit together in one room.

Stupid, stupid, stupid idea.

Maybe he should go back and keep Alfred from killing Ivan. Or vice versa.

Something hit the window about his sink. He jumped violently, dropping Alfred's meat into the sink. He scooped it up, staring at the dark window with some worry. There was a small scrape on the glass, proving he hadn't just imagined the tap. As if to further prove the Canadian of its existence, there was another tap, then a smack and he saw a gray blur hit the window before falling back down again. What was that? He put Alfred's food aside and looked through the window. It was too dark outside for him to see anything. He frowned, trying to see into the darkness. And jumping violently as something, a rock, bounced off the kitchen window again.

Matthew hesitated.

Someone was throwing rocks at the window.

Should he open it?

Should he just ignore it and pull the curtains shut? Who was here? A friend of Alfred's? It had to be someone with good aim, because those rocks were hitting the same place every time. Maybe he should just ignore it.

Yeah, that was a good idea. Opening the window and running the risk of getting hit on the face or being called a faggot wasn't worth some friend of Alfred's. If Alfred's friend wanted him, then he'd have to knock on the door.

He started to make Alfred's hamburger, not really minding that he was missing the movie.

It wasn't really interesting to him.

No, cuddling with Ivan was what was fun about watching movies together.

And he couldn't get any cuddling done with his brother watching him with a scowling disappointment in his choice in men.

Not that Alfred would ever admit to him how disappointed he was that his brother was interested in men in the first place. Matthew could just tell. Alfred was accepting, but he wasn't comfortable with his brother being gay.

He pressed down onto the burger meat in the frying pan with his spatula, enjoying the sizzling hiss it made.

"Why not just give him one of those disgusting frozen slabs of meat in your freezer? He has the micro-waveable ones. You could make one of them in seconds," Ivan said, coming into the kitchen.

"He's addicted to those. And it's my responsibility to break him of his addiction. At least hamburgers aren't just processed food mush shaped into food-shapes. Loaded with salts, fats and very little nutrional value."

"But he's doing this one purpose! He doesn't want us spending time together," Ivan pouted.

"We are right now, aren't we?" Matthew smiled.

"Yeah. But we're not doing... what I was hoping we could do," Ivan said, his voice innocently adorable, yet somehow strongly suggestive. "Tonight. Maybe, um, later? When he's asleep?"

"No!" Matthew exclaimed. "Not while he's in the house. Do you know how uncomfortable that would be for me? And if he were to hear us or see us... urgh, that would be so-"

Ivan giggled. "We could go to my house."

"Like Alfred would allow that."

"He's not your father. You don't need his approval to... stay over."

"My father wouldn't approve either."

"But why obey your parents while they're not home?"

"Some kids do obey their parents, you know," Matthew murmured. "Because sometimes their parents know better."

"Are you implying I'm not good for you?" Ivan purred, though inwardly he felt a little sad. Did Matthew believe them? Did he believe Ivan was no good for him? What kind of lies were they telling about him? Surely Matthew didn't believe such things, after knowing him? He told himself that no, of course Matthew wouldn't. But his inner doubt often flunctuated, probably stemming from insecure personality and general lack of confidence. He lived in fear of losing what little he had. When he felt something might slip from his grasp, he gripped even tighter. Which was why now, he became afraid. Even though his sane mind told him that Matthew was just bantering and didn't mean to imply anything. Probably. Again, Ivan was never sure of himself and he could rarely distinguish his sane, thought-capable mind from his insane, implausible and wildly creative, possibly deranged mind.

"Of course not. I'm just... I just- I'm not sure if I- want to- yet," Matthew stammered uncertainly. "I- I love you, it's just-"

When the doorbell rang, for once, he was glad to be interrupted.

And his mind immediately went to the mysterious rock-tosser.

So Alfred's friend had decided to knock. Great. Maybe they would go off in some other room and start talking about superheroes or whatever and leave him and Ivan alone.

"I'll get it!" Alfred yelled. "Just keep cooking!"

"Oh sure, your Highness," Matthew said sarcastically.

"Let his hamburger burn," Ivan suggested.

Matthew smiled.

He plopped the now cooked meat down onto the bun and was putting the finishing touches on his brother's hamburger, when he heard the door swing open.

And he jumped as he heard Alfred's outraged shriek.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just move aside, loser!"

He heard a thump and his brother's loud cussing and a groan.

And then, suddenly, his heart stops as he recognizes that voice. That terrible, terrible voice.

"Yo, Mattie!"

Ivan growls threateningly and Matthew immediately stops what he was doing.

"Guess who?"

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, you should know who.<strong>

**Yeah, I feel bloody terrible for leaving a cliffhanger, but there's some messy details I don't want to add because they'd be awkward and leaving the chapter off here seemed good. **

**Thanks to those who liked this enough to wait for so long... again, I beg for your forgiveness. **

**And again, anyone interested in Sometimes Love in Unawesome... *shrugs* I'll do my best when I've got the time. **


	13. Chapter 13

**O.O**

**Okay, no need to get violent *shaking* I'm here. I'm updating. **

**No need to be hasty XD**

** Gil and Mattie time, yay!**

* * *

><p>"Let-go-of-me!"<p>

Ivan grunted.

The American was stronger than he'd thought. In a panic, Matthew had told him to grab Alfred and keep him from lunging at the albino. Ivan had disapproved. He wanted to see the Prussian in pain, but since he wasn't allowed to inflict said pain because it would've upset Matthew, he was all to eager to see the American do what he wasn't going to.

"Why are you here?" Matthew asked, surprisingly aggressive.

"I just wanted to see you," Gilbert Beilschmidt said cheerfully, ignoring Alfred's frenzied attempts to get at him unsuccessfully from the Russian's grip.

Matthew glared at him.

Gilbert didn't like that.

He decided to drop the smirking, arrogant attitude. Just for now.

"Listen man, I just came here to say sorry-"

"By hitting his brother and smirking like you own the place?" Ivan asked.

"Was I talking to you?" Gilbert snarled rudely. "Keep your mouth shut."

"Don't talk to him like that," Matthew shouted. "You're in my house. Keep your shit inside your mouth."

That stunned Alfred, who stopped struggling and stared at Matthew, somewhere between shocked and impressed while Ivan just looked proud.

Gilbert even smiled.

But he didn't comment, instead trying his best to smile genuinely and look honest and kind and not-a-total-asshole.

Damn, it was hard.

"I'm sorry. It's just the way I am. The same way your brother is so... eccentric," he had to force that last word out. It took a lot of effort to abstain from saying omething rude that would upset everyone in the room but Ivan. "And uh- you know. Loud. And... um, noisy. You know what? I'm an asshole! It's who I am and I can't change it and I never would change it! I just came to say sorry for beating you up all the time! I came to say I'm genuinely upset over what I did and I- I know it would take a lot to forgive me after all I've done, but- but I was hoping- I was hoping you'd give me a sh- a chance. Yeah. So yeah, I was hoping you'd give me another chance. A chance to make up for all I've done."

Damn it! He sounded like a stumbling idiot. Not awesome at all!

Matthew stared at him, shocked.

He wasn't sure if he was buying this or not.

It was hard, almost impossible to believe Gilbert had changed his attitude so quickly.

But he sounded so sincere. He sounded nervous and he sounded anxious. He didn't sound like the old Gilbert. And yet... he did sound like Gilbert. He didn't sound like he was acting as a whole nother person. He sounded like he was trying his best not to be himself... but his old personality was still there and it had changed.

Was he really sorry?

Yes. Matthew decided, yes, he was sorry.

But... was he trustworthy?

He said he was sorry, but how could Matthew forgive him? What did Gilbert want? Surely he wouldn't apologize unless he had a reason?

Alfred was spewing expletives and vulgarities and profanities and all the other words for dirty words. He couldn't believe Gilbert was actually apologizing. Matthew didn't believe his bullshit, did he?

Ivan was passively staring at Gilbert, his thoughts unknown.

"Come on, say something," Gilbert said impatiently.

"I'm thinking," Matthew murmured. "Why would you apologize now?"

"Yeah, what happened? Did three ghosts come to haunt you last night?" Alfred asked, laughing his exuberant laugh. Ivan grimaced, wishing he could let go of the American and cover his ears. It was apparent the rest of them felt the same, because Gilbert scowled and Matthew winced.

"Haha, you're so funny, I'm being nice because I'm trying to prove to Matthew I've changed," Gilbert said.

"But you haven't changed, you bastard!" Alfred shouted.

"That's for Birdie to decide," Gilbert said, his harsh tone fading as he turned back to Matthew, as if the Canadian was the only one in the room. "Come on, Mattie. Give me a chance. I haven't changed myself, but I have changed how I feel about you."

Matthew felt a shiver.

Something about his last few words sounded intimate. And the way Gilbert is staring at him, is definitely not pleading.

It's apologetic. It's sad and trying its best to convince him.

He's not _begging_. He's _asking_ for forgiveness. But even if he's not begging, he still means it.

There is an intense emotion in his face, in his eyes. His eyes are thick.

Thick with an emotion Matthew refuses to name.

Gilbert holds his hand out to him.

"I want... to be friends," Gilbert said.

"Bullshit! You can't be friends!" Alfred shouted.

"Shut up," Gilbert shouted back at him. "What the hell do you know? You don't control him! He's not a moron! _He can make his own decisions!_ So shut the fuck up, you dirty prick."

"He's my brother! We look out for each other! What the hell would a selfish bastard like you understand?"

"Well I have a younger brother too, dickhead!" Gilbert screamed. "I understand what it's like to have a little brother and to care about them! And I understand how upset you are, I really do! If someone hurt Ludwig, I'd be as pissed as you! I get it! What do you know about me, anyway? You don't know me!"

"I know you enough to know I need to keep you away from my brother!"

"Enough!" Ivan boomed, his voice immediately commanding the room.

Ivan never yelled.

He raised his voice.

But he never yelled.

"Matvey?"

Matthew hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from Gilbert.

He felt incredibly guilty. All he could think about, was that kiss. That kiss from earlier, that wonderful, amazing kiss.

It had been the start.

That moment.

Gilbert was... different.

And he was right. Maybe he hadn't changed. But his... feelings for him had changed.

And that was what really mattered.

Matthew reached for Gilbert's hand. It was tightly clenched (it had started to tighten once Alfred had started yelling). He touched his fist gently, stroking his fingers and gently convincing them to relax. Gilbert froze, turning his eyes back to the Canadian, the fury fading away from his face. It felt erotic, but mostly... it felt nice. And though Matthew's hand was cold, it felt warm.

Matthew took his hand and squeezed it gently, while Gilbert squeezed his hand back a little too enthusiastically.

Ivan watched with burning eyes and Alfred watched with outrage in his eyes.

And when Gilbert, feeling a little daring, pulled the Canadian closer, letting Matthew rest his head on his shoulder, Ivan growled and the American swore. He finally managed to tear away from the Russian, who was distracted, but he didn't do anything to pull them apart. It was his brother's choice after all. He had to respect it. If not support it.

Gilbert grinned a little smugly. He hugged the Canadian's slim form, his arms pulling him even closer, his chin resting on Matthew's head.

He was enjoying every minute of this.

Pissing off the asshole Russian and the annoying, bitchy American.

Being in Mattie's embrace.

Yup. Things were going pretty well for him.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah. <strong>

**I hope this is a fluffy moment and not a pathetic attempt at one. **

**Thanks for the reviews. They scared me into updating. **


	14. Chapter 14

"Yes! Yes, I'm the hero! Ha! Yes! Everyone look at me, hahahahahah!"

Matthew smiled as his brother ran around the baseball field, waving his arms happily.

"Good job!" he yelled.

But no one heard him. No one except Ivan, who was sitting next to him and had been watching him from the beginning of Alfred's baseball game. Alfred's game didn't interest him in the slightest. No, he didn't even feel neutral about it. He wanted to NOT be here. He was strongly adverse to being here.

Matthew had told him repeatedly that he didn't need to come. But Ivan had suggested they skip his game together and he'd immediately said no, that he had to go and would feel bad if he didn't. Ivan, not wanting to be without Mattie for anything that wasn't absolutely necessary, had come along.

And he had truly suffered.

He hated the arrogant American and seeing his victory was sickening.

Plus he hated baseball.

So he spent his time talking to Matthew. Or, when Matthew was unresponsive and unwilling (too focused on the game, he guessed), watching the sky and wishing it he'd been able to find sunflowers. He'd been looking, but finding the flowers growing naturally was hard, so he went hunting for them in stores. He couldn't find any good gardening stores and for the life of him, he couldn't find any sunflower seeds anywhere else, not an a convenience store or a grocery store. It was sad. He stared wistfully at the sun. He wished he could catch a little sunshine and put it just outside his window. He'd just have to make do with a sunflower. If he could ever find one.

"Ivan? Ivan, you okay? The baseball game didn't hurt your head too much, did it?" Matthew teased, cutting Ivan's gloomy reverie.

"No, but your brother's arrogance is," Ivan sighed. "Didn't he forget your hockey game last season?"

"Yes, but it wasn't important," Matthew said.

"It was to you. And no one was there for you."

"You were. And that was all that mattered," Matthew murmured in reply.

Ivan smiled. He leaned over to kiss him, but suddenly, the one face he didn't want to be looking at appeared in front of him.

"Hi guys! Didn't I do awesome? Let's go to McDonald's in celebration!" Alfred shouted.

Ivan was getting really annoyed with Matthew's brother.

He kept getting in the way when they were kissing or bumping them to seperate them as he walked by. He was always watching them carefully and whenever they were alone in a room, Alfred would come in and sit between them. When they tried to go to Ivan's house for privacy, Alfred would always make an excuse to keep Matthew home, like threatening to burn down the kitchen if Matthew didn't stay home and cook him a burger. He was very controlling and he wasn't always that subtle when it came to showing his control. Matthew joked that Alfred was more of a father than Francis or Arthur. Ivan had to agree since Arthur left the room whenever he saw them and Francis laughed and told them to "have fun and be safe" with his suggestive, cheeky grin. Ivan would've gladly followed his lewd advice, but Alfred was always getting in the way.

And then, there was Matthew, who didn't seem so keen on the idea either.

That one time they'd been close, Ivan got the feeling Matthew hadn't really been thinking and would've pushed him away if he had.

Well that was no matter.

Matthew was just nervous. Ivan just had to show him how much he cared. And that he didn't have to be scared of a physical relationship.

"Tonight, can we go to my house? We can try talking without the hamburger eating fool interrupting us with chores for you to do," Ivan murmured. "While he's having his victory party, we have two hours alone. Maybe we can start where we left off last time, da?"

Matthew closed his eyes. He let out a sigh.

"I-um- I'm not sure-"

Ivan pouted.

Oh well.

It would take time. He'd be patient.

Hm. Maybe.

"Hey! Mattie, yo!"

Matthew turned around quickly. Ivan scowled behind his back, annoyed since it seemed like Matthew had snubbed him for that bastard German.

"Birdie! I didn't know you'd be here!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, no one ever does."

The albino smiled.

"Yeah, great, listen! My brother was playing here today and I totally didn't want to come, but it's great that you're here! Makes up for Awesomeness beng dragged to this lame game! Not that Luddy played lame, just that I hate sports! So listen, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie with me or something?"

"Oh-okay. Um, Ivan-"

"Uh, you want to bring the Russian howitzer?" Gilbert groaned distastefully.

"He's my boyfriend," Matthew said simply. And his eyes just screamed distrust. Well, to Gilbert they did.

Gilbert felt his heart plunge.

Matthew still didn't trust him.

Oh well. He'd show Birdie! He could be trusted! He was different now!

He could love and he could be loved.

"That's totally not awesome," Gilbert whined.

"Sorry. I'm just not that awesome."

Upon hearing that, Gilbert immediately shook his head.

"That's not it. Fine. He can come. In fact, maybe it'll be fun."

Ivan hummed.

"If you really don't want me coming along, I can go home," he said slowly. "If you like, Matt."

"No. Definitely not," Matthew said. "You can come. I want you to come. Is that alright, Gil?"

"Yeah, whatever," Gilbert sighed. He glared at Ivan who had a triumphant smile.

_He wants to be with me, Beilschmidt. I would leave you two alone because I trust Matvey. I know he'll never stray from me because he is mine. Mine. And nothing you can do or say will change that. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you an stop trying so pathetically. _

* * *

><p><strong>Recently, I lost a writing competition and it depressed me. My writing suffered for an entire week. <strong>

**But I'm back because I watched some Hetalia and felt better. Then felt bad again as I realized I'd left my Hetalia fanfictions update-less. Not a word, but whatever. **

**Sorry. Hopefully I'll have time tomorrow to update. No promises. **

**And what the hell is up with Fanfiction? It's been acting up on me in Document Management. I'm having technical difficulties as well as mental difficulties. **

**Grrrrrr. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Sup bitches, I'm back!**

** Meaning, now that I have (somewhat) diminished homework, I can update. **

** I wish I had a boyfriend like Matthew. Or Ivan. Or Gilbert. **

** Come to think of it, the Hetalia men are just so desirable over the asshole guys at my school. XD **

**Wish I was kidding...**

* * *

><p>"Ha! Hilarious!"<p>

Both Ivan and Gilbert winced.

"Why did he come along again?" Gilbert asked.

"Because I'm awesome!" Alfred chortled.

"Hey that's my line!" Gilbert shouted.

"He's here because-" Matthew sighed, but his brother beat him to it.

"Because there's no way I'm leaving him alone with you two rapists!" Alfred shouted. "Rape! Rape! Rape is baaaaddd!" The people around them eyed him and edged away from the loud boy uneasily. Some of them were weirded out, some were amused and some were annoyed, or all three. Alfred paid them no attention.

"It's not rape if he likes it," Ivan purrs, his large hand squeezing Matthew's hand gently. He looks at the Canadian and smiles.

Matthew grimaces, but he tries not to look too objective.

Gilbert scowled.

"I don't know who would willingly have sex with a giant like you," the albino shouted. "I'd think all and any sexual activity of yours was rape!"

Matthew blushed as many people turned their heads and stared.

"Well my size is quite... large," Ivan murmured, his voice dropping, his face becoming maddeningly superior, or at least, to Gilbert's eyes it seemed to. "Intimidating, especially for a midget like you, I imagine. But some of us are wonderfully well endowed, da?"

Matthew didn't understand why Gilbert turned furiously red and started shouting angrily at him, something about five meters. What was the big deal? Ivan was just teasing him... about...his...size.

Oh.

The Canadian blushed as he understood the implications and his brother laughed.

"He's boasting about his dick! Gross! But I bet it's nowhere near as big as mi-"

"That's it! Shut up! All of you!" Matthew shouted, clapping a hand around Alfred's mouth before he could say the embarrassing, dirty words he was about to utter. "No more penis talking! You guys are weird! I don't even know how you got _that _from that! It didn't sound sexual to me until Gil brought up five meters or whatever! You guys are so perverted!"

"But we are _guys. _Dick size is important to girls... and on occasion, other guys," Gilbert said.

"For your sake, it'd better not be," Alfred replied. Then breaking into giggles. "You get it right? You get it? I'm so clever! You get it, right? Because he's got a small-"

Matthew punched him in the gut.

There was a moment of silence as everyone paused to think about what had just transpired.

Then that moment passed.

Matthew immediately started apologizing, no, begging for forgiveness while his brother complimented his punch and told him laughingly that, "he was the hero; it was nothing!" He even asked if the Canadian would do it again, to "bring on some of that Maple fury" and show him what he was made of. Of course, Matthew ignored his response and kept apologizing profusely.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was laughing hysterically and bragging that Mattie had come to his defense when Alfred had called his dick small and about his five meters, which Ivan claimed was impossible. Then Gilbert had said that just because it was impossible for Russians... and then Ivan had gotten scary quiet with a calm and cool, collected face that smiled on the bottom half and festered on the top half. Then Gilbert had gotten nervous, but still couldn't resist rubbing it in the Russian's face: his Birdie had defended him! And hit his own brother! Gilbert hadn't know he had it in him.

Of course when Gilbert stopped ranting, he realized Matthew was begging for forgiveness.

"Well, it's a start," he shrugged.

The walk to the theater started off uncomfortable, but Gilbert was never one to be quiet for long. He started talking about the horror movie they were seeing and claiming he wouldn't even so much as blink at the scary moments.. This prompted Alfred to doubt himself and contemplate running. But no! He was the hero! He'd stay and keep his brother safe! He wasn't going to run just because there were some silly ghosts lurking in the shadows... No way! He didn't even feel fear! What was there to fear? Nothing! Just a challenge! And he didn't fear any challenge, from anyone, especially not Gilbert Beil-Potato head!

The entire walk, Matthew kept his eye on his brother.

Wanting and waiting for his brother to state that he was uncomfortable with their movie choice, say no thanks and run away. But Alfred wasn't backing down. Matthew hadn't really expected him to. He never had before.

And the way Gilbert was talking... well, Alfred was no doubt taking it as a challenge.

"I've seen all the scariest movies! I bet my kind of scary movies would scare the crap out of your kind of scary movies!" Alfred bragged. "I'm not scared! And the first person to scream has to pay the other fifteen bucks!"

"Ha! You're on, Burger Brains!"

"I'm so going to win, unawesome dude!"

"Unawesome?"

They began to banter.

Bantering, bantering, bantering.

Matthew giggled as their insults got weirder and weirder.

"Wanker!"

"What the the hell is that supposed to mean, hamburger breath?"

"Hamburger breath? Really? Is that the best you could come up with? And a wanker is someone who faps off because he can't lay some pipe! Like you!"

At one point the two drifted ahead of the Canadian, both of them arguing hotly over who was going to wimp out first, which movies were the scariest, which actors were the worst and which actresses were the hottest.

Matthew found he coould enjoy himself. He didn't mind being in the background, not like this. He wasn't being ignored. He just felt like he was watching a peaceful scene with Ivan, who was humming a light Russian tune under his breath. It was nice. Nice not to be the center of attention and not be completely forgotten. It was like he had the best of both worlds at that moment. It was nice. Ivan put his arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer. Yeah. The best of both worlds. For a short moment, he was content. He was even comfortable around Gilbert. The albino didn't seem as scary or as cruel when he was laughing and insulting his brother and playfully exchanging punches to the shoulder.

When they made it to the theaters, Alfred and Gilbert were almost at real blows, however. There was only so much insults to their towering ego they both could take. Too much could send them both toppling to the ground.

So Ivan dragged Alfred (half-literally) to the concession stand, since the American was whining about candy and soda and popcorn while Matthew gently steered Gilbert to their theater. It was fairly crowded since the movie got good reviews as well as young moviegoers who wanted to piss their pants in theaters with their friends. Matthew was getting jostled around quite a bit. People had a habit of looking over or through him and he got pushed as people tried to walk through something that was _there. _They'd look at Matthew bemusedly. Some would realize he was a human being and would murmur an apology but some would just shake their heads and keep going.

At one point, Gilbert couldn't take it anymore.

A teenage boy about Alfred's age was so determined to get to the top row he actually charged up the stairs, shoving Matthew to the side. To be fair, he probably hadn't seen the Canadian. But still. Matthew fell. Regardles of whether the other teen had seen him or not, he fell pretty hard.

Fell hard against the ground. He saw flashing white lights above his eyes and rubbed his eyes, his head throbbing.

"Ow," he heard himself say. He sat up, narrowly avoiding the dirty, filthy theater seats. And getting stomped on people who _somehow _had almost missed him.

"Hey! Asshole! Come back down here so I can beat the bloody shit out of you!" Gilbert shouted ferociously. "You don't just push people around! Come back down here and apologize to my friend!"

"No-no, it's okay, Gil-"

"It's not okay! I'll beat him-"

"Gil-" with a pained groan, Matthew pushed himself off the ground. He took Gilbert's hand with both of his, gently patting the warm skin and rubbing comforting circles. "It's alright, I'm fine. Just let it go, okay?"

Gilbert frowned. But he looked at the Canadian and all traces of irritation and resentment vanished within an instant. His anger dissolved in those deep violet eyes.

Damnit.

He felt like such a pussy for letting it go, saying, "yeah, okay," and letting the Canadian pull him gently to the middle row of the theater. He felt like such a pussy for feeling warm butterfly wings flutter against his skin and warm electrical pulses from Matthew's touch. Damnit. _I feel like a pussy for holding his hand. _

_But there was no way in hell he was letting go._

_Pussy or not. _

* * *

><p><strong>I. Hate. Writing. Bills. <strong>

**Debate class is a real bitch. I have Student Congress soon, so I'll be writing bills and resolutions for Gun Control, the Death Penalty, Abortion and Juvenile Sentencing as well as speeches for the three that I have to prepare for too. I hate this class. It seems like it would be easy, but there's so much craaaaaapppppppp to do. **

**Those are my problems, though. **

**Your problem... is to figure out how to review me! Reviews are appreciated as always but lack of reviews don't deter update activity. **


	16. Chapter 16

"OH MY GOD!"

Matthew stared forward.

Gilbert smirked.

Ivan had a creepy smile on his face.

Alfred squealed and squeezed his eyes shut.

He tried his best to keep his screams contained but it was hard.

He wanted to run, but he was the hero! He couldn't run! He would stay this one out!

Even if it killed him.

He jumped as the rocking chair started rocking, _on its own. _

"Ghosts!" he shrieked.

Matthew jumped a little as the ghost flickered into view accompanied by scary music, but it was just a physical reaction. So far, there had been some good jumps and scares but Matthew wasn't too impressed. Still, the night was young. Maybe he'd get as scared as Alfred by the end of the movie and have to sleep with the lights on. Probably not, though. Alfred looked like any second he was going to piss himself. A lot of the kids in the theater (young people made up 90 percent of the audience), were screaming, then laughing hysterically. It was rather anti-climactic. Matthew wished they'd stop.

Matthew wasn't too impressed, but Gilbert was creeped out. Not as much as Alfred, no way, he was too awesome for that! Still, sometimes (and he'd never admit this to the light of day) he felt a scream build up in his throat. He pressed himself back against his seat and took a deep breath. _Not cool, not real, not as awesome as you. What is there to be afraid of? Ghosts? I'm not afraid of ghosts!_ he thought.

Ivan smiled. Silly Americans and their ghost movies.

"What does she want?" the main character whispered. He is in a dark room with no light but the candlelight, the little flame reflected in his eyes. "Why is she doing this?"

The music fades eerily, a single note lingering before fading with the screen.

Matthew nods approvingly. Great at building drama. Maybe he just wasn't scared because of all the times Alfred made him watch much, much worse than this.

Then again, Alfred wasn't looking so good.

Any second he looked like he was going to bolt. But Matthew knew he wouldn't.

He was the hero. He'd never run.

"Your brother is quite the masochist," Ivan murmured, leaning closer to his boyfriend's ear over the arm rest. "He looks like he is going to wet himself in fear."

"He thinks he's being brave rather than foolish," Matthew whispered back.

"This movie is lame, just like Alfred," Gilbert said, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

"Shut up! All of you!" a boy several seats down shouted.

Gilbert flipped him off, but he did lower his voice. A little bit. A tiny bit. One decibel lower.

"Look at him! You're such a pussy!" the German said challengingly. He smirked at the American. But Alfred wasn't even looking at him. His eyes and ears were fixated on the screen. Gilbert waited for a few seconds, then gave up. "I'll tease him later," he shrugged, returning to his original position.

"I find this movie rather dull," Ivan confesses. "It is rather silly."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matthew said.

"Sorry? For what?" Ivan asked bemusedly.

"Sorry for making your day suck. I keep dragging you places you don't want to be. Sorry," Matthew said apologetically.

There was a brief pause. Ivan stared at him and Matthew stared back, feeling a little awkward. Had he said something wrong? What the problem? Why did Ivan look almost pained?

In one quick move, Ivan had pushed the armrest, their only barrier, up. Before Matthew knew what was going on, Ivan had his arm around his waist and had pulled him against his body. The smaller boy gave a squeak of surprise, but smiled at the intimacy. "You are so kind," Ivan purred, neck bending as his lips brushed against Matthew's hair. "Any place without you, is where I don't want to be."

Warmth flooded his face as well as his heart.

It was so corny. It was so dorky. It was one of those lines you heard while watching a romance movie and thought or perhaps said out loud, "that is so unrealistic." It was one of the lines you and your girlfriend/ boyfriend would agree would never happen in real life. It was one of those lines most people would never dare voice out loud, not seriously and quietly in the dark. It was a line only uttered, in real life, in a jocular tone, a tone that acknowledged how corny the line was.

Ivan said it without a smirk. He said it with a gentle smile, a genuine smile.

Coming from him, it was heartfelt. Somewhere it registered in his brain that he should've been giggling, but the rest of him just loved the feeling of being loved.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the lack of PruCan. For now, it's RusCan, sorry, but I want to develop RusCan before I break it. <strong>

**XD**

**Oh, also sorry for the short update. **


	17. Chapter 17

Gilbert thought Alfred would be the first person to run from the theater.

It seemed like a certainty.

But it was actually his awesome self that left first.

Gilbert had looked to his right, wanting to make a comment about Alfred's lack of awesomeness.

What he'd seen instead of Alfred's terrified, pussy face, was his Canadian being felt up by the Russian.

Now to be fair, they weren't really doing anything naughty. They were cuddling, as close as they could with the absence of the armrest. Ivan looked far too comfortable, far too smug, and satisfied with his filthy hands all over his Canadian. Okay, maybe Gilbert didn't want to be fair.

Maybe it was how happy Matthew seemed in that position. He seemed to... glow. His eyes were so... bright. Light. Happy. Loving.

It sickened him. Disgust settled inside his gut.

Matthew looked so... happy.

And it hurt.

They looked like they really loved each other.

And he felt like he didn't have a chance.

Was that why Ivan was so sure? Why he didn't even see Gilbert as competition?

Because Matthew loved him so strongly?

Because he knew that by taking the first step, the first move, he'd taken Matthew's first love?

And that that made Ivan his only love.

It hurt.

They belonged together.

But... no, Gilbert didn't care. He didn't care if they were made for each other. He didn't care if it would kill Ivan when, not if, he took Matthew away. He didn't care if they were soul mates, two halves of a soul, and that he was just butting in. Anyone else would've seen the couple and just given up. Went looking for the right person, instead of being fixated on someone who'd already found the right person. But Gilbert wasn't like anyone else. He wanted. He wanted, so badly. And he didn't care what got in the way.

All he cared about was seeing that love in Matthew's eyes when the Canadian was his.

All he cared about was making Matthew love him the way he did Ivan.

Instead of love in Ivan's eyes, he saw hunger, a lustful desire. Instead of affection in his eyes, he saw obsession. Instead of adoration, he saw naivety in Matthew's eyes.

Whatever it took.

Whatever it took to make Ivan the bad guy. Whatever it took to help him sleep at night, knowing what he was doing and attempting.

He would not be guilty. He would not be held back by an emotion like that.

He could only push forward.

Ivan took the first step? Ha! Fucking joke.

That dumb Russian had taken the easy step. Matthew was a pathetic, loveless loner. Of course he'd cling to the first person who showed him attention. Of course he'd create such a strong bond with someone he barely knew. Because he barely knew him! He knew his affection and adoration, but did he really know Ivan? Did Ivan really know him? Matthew had never had a relationship like this before with someone. He didn't really know how human emotions should be, how bonds and how relationships should be made.

Gilbert was sure Matthew had a bad sense of judgment. Especially when it came to loving relationships.

Affection of any kind would seem like love to his poor, poor naïve Mattie.

He couldn't let stupid little Mattie live in his oblivious little world. Where obsession was love and being owned was being taken care of.

He couldn't let Mattie's first love be like that.

And if he was honest, he couldn't let Mattie be anyone else's but his.

Which was why he bolted.

He got up out of his chair and pelted down the stairs of the theater and rounded the corner and was gone. Out of the theater in about two seconds.

Alfred hadn't even see him go. The American had his hands over his eyes, rocking back and forward in his seat, his eyes fixated on the screen.

Ivan had seen a bit of a blur of bright white, but otherwise he hadn't really caught the German's escape. He just knew the annoying, fuming little albino shit had run.

Leaving him, Matthew, and his terrified brother, who looked like he'd soon follow.

Good.

But before he could maybe sneak in a gentle grope or a suggestive touch (they were in a dark room and he'd be lying if he said having Matvey pressed up against his, practically in his lap, wasn't something of a turn on), Matthew stood up, looking worried.

"Is he okay?" Matthew said, frowning in the direction the albino had streaked off into.

"He'll be fine, Matvey," Ivan whined. "Sit back down."

"I-I think I should... sorry, I should follow him. Make sure he's okay... if Alfred runs out, we might as well just leave, since I don't think Gilbert's coming back and there's no point in staying if these two guys (who dragged us here in the first place) both chicken out and leave-"

"Hey! I will not leave! And Ivan will stay and tell you later, you hear?" Alfred half-shouted, half-moaned.

Ivan rolled his eyes.

Matthew smiled and kissed his cheek.

"See you in a few minutes. I just need to make sure Gil's okay."

Ivan grunted. He didn't like it.

But he'd let the German have his way.

Fine. If he wanted to play like that, then Ivan would let him.

Even if Gilbert was genuinely scared (and Ivan doubted he was actually scared enough to run out of the theater), Ivan was sure he'd only run out like a little girl to get Matthew to follow him. And it had clearly worked.

_Your ball, Beilschmidt. But you're going to lose. And I hope you're crushed when you realize that._

* * *

><p><strong>Crappy update.<strong>

**Hi guys. **

**School's being a bitch to me. **

**I've been really busy. **

**But not today. Today, I've got time. **

**I'll be hopping on to the next update. I had some bad writer's block due to stress and pressure, but now I have my creative writer's blood flowing again. For a while, my brain was like a robot, just getting shit done when it needed to be done. **

**But now I have plans for my next update. **

**I can actually start writing right away. **


	18. Chapter 18

**"**Gil?"

Matthew poked his head into the men's bathroom.

Thankfully, there wasn't a line. But there wasn't usually a line for the men's bathroom anyway. He walked in and paused uncertainly, his hand on a sink. "Where did you go?" he wondered outloud, glancing at the empty stalls, all thrown open without care. If Gilbert wasn't here, where had he gone? Had he snuck into another movie theater, perhaps to get the scary memories of the movie out of his head, maybe watching that new Dr. Seuss movie? If he was watching another movie, then which one? Maybe an action movie? Yeah, that seemed more likely, since-

"Mattie?"

Matthew jumped almost a foot.

"Gilbert!" he exclaimed, his heart hammering. "Hi!"

The albino raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

"Jumpy, huh?" he asked. "Was it the movie?" He crossed his arms, his pose recumbent, trying to look totally relaxed and cool. Not the lame-o that ran out of a horror movie because he couldn't "handle it."

Matthew snickered, not falling for it in an instant.

"You can drop the cool guy act," he smiled. "Since you ran out of the theater."

The smile immediately dropped off the albino's face and he hunched his shoulders, looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Matthew said, walking towards him uncertainly.

For a wild second, Gilbert considered grabbing him and hugging him, but that was insane. Take things slow, idiot. It would not be awesome to freak the blond Canadian out. Besides being a clingy creeper was Ivan's department. He was going to be Mattie's boyfriend, not his master. And though he wouldn't object to physicality, he certainly wasn't going to be all clingy like Ivan, with all their stupid public hugging and kissing and giggling! That was lame! Well, to him it was.

"No worries," Gilbert said easily. "That was lame of me, to run out before Alfred could, wasn't it?"

"A little," Matthew giggled, smiling at him uncertainly. "Do you want to go back now or-?"

"Uh no," Gilbert said quickly. "I was just thinking about sneaking into another movie instead."

"Oh. Well okay. That's fine," his companion said.

"I don't really want to go alone. Do you-do you want to come with me?" Gilbert offered before he could chicken out.

No, no chicken out! He was too awesome for that phrase! He didn't chicken out of anything! He just abstained from doing something. Because of... unforseen circumstances. Yeah, he liked how that sounded.

"Still a little jittery?" Matthew asked kindly.

Gilbert nodded. Trying to ignore the little warm jitters tickling his midsection.

"Okay. Let's go, then. Only for about an hour, though. We have to meet up with Ivan and Alfred later, okay?"

Oh Mattie, Gilbert thought. _As long as I'm with you, everything and anything is okay._

Then he realized how stupidly corny that was and dismissed it.

"What do you want to see?"

Matthew stared at him, nonplussed that for once, Gilbert was asking someone else for their opinion instead of just plowing over them.

"Oh. Um... maybe that romantic comedy?"

Gilbert snickered without thinking.

Matthew blushed.

"I-I mean because- stop laughing!" he protested, lightly hitting the albino's arm as his friend started full-on laughing.

"You would be into girly movies!" Gilbert chortled.

"I-I was trying to be nice! I thought you could do with a laugh! I'm. Not. Girly," Matthew said, pouting.

_What an adorable face you're pulling. _

Matthew flushed dark red.

And with a sinking feeling, Gilbert realized he'd said that outloud.

"Uh," he said, trying to think quickly and erase the awkward moment. "Did I say that outloud? Can we edit that out?"

Matthew laughed.

"Yeah, I'll pretend you didn't say that. Or that girly comment either."

"But the girly comment was true!" Gilbert claimed. "What self-respecting guy would willingly admit they like chick flicks?"

"I told you I was just being nice! And does that mean you don't think I'm adorable either?" Matthew said coyly, pouting again mockingly and siddling closer to Gilbert.

Now it was the albino's turn to blush.

"Uh, no. I mean, yes! Wait, I mean no. Wait... um, geez, that was kind of hard," Gilbert said, figuratively scratching his head. "I meant-mean that-that I think you're adorable!"

Both of them processed that for a moment. Gilbert, in embarrassment, and Matthew, in embarrassment.

Then without another word to each other, they both collapsed into giggles.

"Oh man. You think I'm girly? But _you're_ the one using the word adorable. I thought guys used 'smoking hot' or sexy or something more manly than adorable," Matthew chuckled.

"Oh, so you think you're smoking hot?" Gilbert teased. "Well the fact that you refered to guys in third person and not first person like 'we' shows just how girly you are. It's like you are a girl. That's why I think you're adorable. Cause you strike me as a cute, blushing girl, not a woman!"

"I'm not a woman either! Are you being dim on purpose?"

"Naw, comes with the territory. I just meant that you're all innocent and flowery and all 'let's go watch romance so I can feel all warm and goopy inside.' You know, how chicks are."

"Hey! I told you, I just thought you needed a laugh! Besides, how many girls do you know that say they like romance because it makes them feel... what did you say? 'Warm and goopy?' No one says that! Except you," Matthew added.

"Because I'm awesome! And manly enough to still come off manly while talking about romcoms!"

"Romcoms that you watch?"

"Yea- NO!"

They ended up laughing and bantering a little longer, about thirty minutes and using up half of the waiting time. Instead of going into a movie, they ended up sitting outside the movie theater Alfred and Ivan were in, talking about the movie genres they liked. Well, mostly it was Gilbert talking about "those kickass action movies" and the most "badass, ass-kicking" action characters that were always walking away from explosions without even flinching and Matthew nodding, smiling, and occasionally laughing when Gilbert got overly excited. But neither of them really minded. In that way, they were perfect for each other. Gilbert didn't like listening and Matthew didn't much care for speaking.

So when their companions exited the theater, they found the two waiting outside, talking to one another, seemingly unaware of the crowd leaving, signalng the movie's end.

"And I totally loved John McClane! He was such a badass motherfucker! Best fucking catchphrase ever!"

"It didn't even make sense. Yippee-Ki-Yay and then the Mother-f-er part? Didn't really make sense."

"Did you seriously say Mother-f-er? Are you incapable of searing? It's motherfucker, dude. And anyway, so what if it didn't make sense? He was a badass. It didn't need to make sense! Some movies are for clever word plays and some movies are for shooting and explosions and murder and- oh, the losers are out," Gilbert said disappointedly, glancing at Ivan, who towered over him, looking down on him impassively. And Alfred, who looked haunted, like he'd been trapped in a cave and forced to eat his own leg. And was about to throw up.

"Al? You okay? You gonna puke?" Matthew asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Ha! Shut the fuck up, Gilbert! We're losers? Ha! We sat it out! Ivan'll tell you! Tell him, Ivan! Tell him how I stayed it out after he ran like a little girl!" Alfred proclaimed, swaying and sitting down all of sudden. Matthew scooted out of his way just in time.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "This little rabbit," he said, jabbing his finger at Alfred, "got so scared he leapt into my lap. But then he panicked, called me a communist, and fell to the floor."

"Yeah, you're boyfriend's an asshole," Alfred pouted. "He just laughed at me."

"I would've," Matthew said. "Thanks for staying with him."

"No problem," Ivan said. "So what did you and Gilbert do while your brother was soiling himself?"

"Um, talked mainly. We were going to sneak into another movie, but we got distracted," Matthew explained.

"Yeah. Distracted," Gilbert said, smirking at the Russian. Even if nothing anywhere close to intimate had happened, he still wanted to rub his alone time with Mattie in the dumb Russian's face.

Ivan seemed impassive.

"Did you thank him?"

The smirk faded into a frown.

"Thank him?"

"For making sure you were okay?" Ivan said patronizingly, letting the disdain he held for the albino ooze from his tone. " I am glad Matvey was there to comfort you. You seemed rather frightened."

"He was!" Alfred shouted. "He ran out before me!"

"But you screamed first! So you owe me a hundred bucks!" Gilbert shouted.

"What! No I don't! It wasn't that high and I didn't scream first, you did!"

"I so did not! You screamed when those tripulet ghost girls showed up!"

"No I didn't! I held out ten minutes! I swear!"

"Yeah, I was actually counting, stupid! You lasted ten seconds, then started wetting yourself!"

"Big talk coming from the guy who ran _out_!"

They bickered all the way home. By the time they were both out of steam- oh wait, no, they never ran out of steam. Gilbert was still throwing insults like knives at the American when they finally got to Matthew and Alfred's home. He probably could've gone on, but Matthew hurried Alfred inside, not wanting to hear anymore of their seemingly endless argument. He pushed the protesting American into the house first, shutting the door quickly but softly behind him. Then he smiled. "Ignore him," he said. "I know he's obnoxious, but he's not so bad."

He leaned forward and kissed Ivan on the cheek.

"Goodnight," he chimed. "Thanks for coming."

Ivan leaned forward, not letting him get away, and kissed him, smirking as he felt Gilbert's gaze on them.

"Bye," Matthew said, face a little red, waving a little awkwardly at Gilbert.

"What are you, a waiter?" Gilbert exclaimed. "Give me a hug!"

He pulled the Canadian off the ground and hugged him as hard as he could as _briefly _as he could before putting him back down on the ground. Feeling a little daring, he kissed the Canadian's nose.

"See you at school," Gilbert snickered.

Then he dashed off.

Not "running away."

Just going to his house really, really quickly before an already irate Ivan could follow him and beat the crap out of him, or his house.

* * *

><p><strong>I felt I owed it to you. Not very long, I know, but it could've been a lot shorter, since I got distracted thirty minutes ago, then forgot what I was going to do. But it came back to me. <strong>

**Anyway, Gilbert's in the "friend phase." Getting Mattie comfortable with his presence before trying anything. You ever done that? It kind of works, but it's really hard to get out of the friend stage once you've gotten into it. Then again, Gilbert was in the bully stage. So getting in the friend stage is progress, right? **

**Anyway, read and review. It's my fuel. Oh, and vote on my Yaoi Meter Poll on my profile, will you? I'd like to know just how perverted yaoi fans are... I'm assuming seven, but I won't know until you've all voted, will I?**


	19. Chapter 19

_Matthew cringed. He stumbled backwards, hitting the lockers with enough force to dent the cheap metal. He slid to the ground, his glasses askew, his wide blue eyes full of terror. "Leave me alone, please," he begged. "Just leave me alone. Just today, please-" But he saw the look in that albino's eyes and he knew it was going to happen. He knew that right now, the same thing was going to happen, the same thing that happened every day and would continue happening. His vision blurred as tears clouded his eyes._

_A clenched fist rammed into his face. His head slammed against the locker. White spots flashed across his sight and he tasted metal. Liquid metal. Hot metallic blood. _

_He'd bitten his tongue_.

_The pain. The inside, the outside. _

_His skin throbbing, fire erupting, the screaming. _

_His own screaming. _

_He was screaming. _

_Inside his head and out. _

_Screaming..._

With a gasp, Matthew woke up, his sides heaving, his mouth panting as if he'd run a long distance. He felt a scream locked in his throat, his eyes bulging a little, fear hammering against his memories. The nightmares.

He felt tears trickling down his cheeks. He remembered when he always used to have dreams like that. When reality slipped inside his head, tormenting his subconscious, and forcing him to relive every moment he'd suffered. Most people could escape reality in dreams, but for Matthew, both his reality and his dreams had been utter torment and suffering. Back then, he'd had nothing to look forward to, no release of any kind. No escape. Nothing but a bleak past, a bleak present, a bleak future, and bleak sleep that often would be punctuated by sharp unrest or lapses of rapid consciousness as he tried to escape the dream world... but found that his reality wasn't much better.

For a long time he'd been locked somewhere between physical suffering and a mental jail. His mind tormented him and his bullies tormented him, but it was his mind that suffered, because it didn't heal as fast. It replayed his memories over and over, as if it was trying to torture him. When he dreamt, he had been trapped inside his head. No escape, no escape...

Matthew felt his heart slowly returning to its normal pace and he flopped back down against his bed, staring at the ceiling. True, for awhile, Ivan had managed to drive his demons, his dreams, away. Ivan had released him from his world of pain and had brought him back to a place where love and happiness and compassion did exist. Ivan had stopped the physical pain. But he'd also unlocked the darkness of his mind. Without even knowing it.

Matthew would dream of being hurt by faceless villains. He would dream of-

_Feet furiously kicked his prone body, smacking against his ribcage, his stomach, his head. He couldn't breathe properly. It came out as a whimper, a little grunt, as he tried to inhale, but every time he did, the wind would be knocked right out of him. Instead, he choked and gurgled, trying to breathe and swallow or spit out the blood collecting in his mouth. His faceless tormentors laughed. Sometimes it was Gilbert's voice and sometimes it was someone else. But usually it was Gilbert. _

_He would feel the floor tremble. And he would hear footsteps. _

_And then his tormentors would run, disappear. They would hiss and back away, shrink away from the figure. The bright white figure outlined by darkness. _

He knew it was Ivan. His angel, his savior, his personal light.

And Gilbert, his personal darkness.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt bad.

Gilbert had apologized. He was nice. He was nice now. They had laughed together, joked with one another. They were friends now, weren't they? Not good friends, but friends nonetheless.

Why was he dwelling on the past? It had passed and was gone. The only way it could hurt him was he empowered it by dragging it back to the present. He shoved them to the back of him mind.

But that was exactly the problem. He could hide it, but it was always there, waiting for him to fall asleep before attacking him once more. And no matter how many times he repeated to himself that it was the past and had no relevance to the present, his subconscious, his dreams, and his memories, refused to leave him in peace.

Matthew stretched, feeling the slight ache in his back flex pleasantly with his muscles. He glanced out the window, out of habit. As a kid, he would always check the weather to see if he could go outside. Being a loner was painful at times, but it was always painfully boring when one was trapped inside. As a toddler, he would always be looking out the window, checking to make sure he could go outside and explore. It was fun to go out exploring, pretending that he wasn't alone because no one wanted to be his company, but because he was an explorer, a brave and mighty explorer who relied on no one and had fantastic adventures.

Even now, he enjoyed the outside better than the dark confines of his room. For a long time, he'd been an indoor kid, because his room was where his tormentors couldn't follow and the loneliness he felt seemed self-inflicted. But now that he felt there were more opputunities out there, the room and its musky memories sickened him. It had been his fortress, but not it felt like his cell. He had to get out.

He dressed quickly, seizing the first shirt his hand touched and yanking it on hurriedly.

As he passed his brother's room, the door was flung open suddenly. He flinched in surprise.

"Um-?"

A girl, blonde and blue-eyed, was spitting something over her shoulder at Alfred, who was sprawled in his bed wearing nothing more than boxers.

"As if I actually-!"

She froze as she caught sight of Matthew. He got a good look at smooth, sexy legs and his brother's shirt, too broad for her thin shoulders, falling down to her knees before she yanked on her pants and ran, tugging the shirt in distractedly as she ran. Quite literally ran. He could hear her stumbling down the stairs. His papa barely had time for a creepy pervert giggle before the door slammed shut, signaling her departure.

Francis whistled downstairs in the kitchen, wishing there was someone he could share a perverted comment with.

"Um... whatcha been doing?" Matthew asked nervously.

"Screwing, what does it look like?" Alfred sighed contentedly.

"And who was that?"

"Not sure. She kept talking about not normally being that easy or something. She seemed really experienced though, so-."

"She must've been easy if she was sleeping with you," Arthur said nastily as he passed by, dark circles under his eyes. "Kept me up with your moaning, you filthy-"

"Oh yes, I am soooo filthy," Alfred moaned, stretching himself out and yawning, his back trembling from the pressure. "So covered in filthy, filthy sex. And you're so jealous, aren't you, you old man?"

"Why you-! I have half a mind to pull you over my knee-"

"Sorry, not gay, Dad."

As Matthew left, he heard a great deal of French laughter and British swearing and American screaming, which might've been upset or simply very, very amused.

He smiled.

His brother did enjoy sleeping around, didn't he? He'd gotten Arthur's stubborn streak and Francis's sex drive. Odd just how like his parents Alfred acted sometimes, especially considering they weren't truly related.

Alfred had been adopted by Arthur in America and Francis had adopted Matthew in Canada. Arthur had been visiting his cousin in Ottawa and had brought Alfred with him. Just hours after landing, Alfed had complained about how "boring this part of America is" and and had been begging to go back to the "better half of America." Then, in a furious fit of irritation, Alfred had ran off. He'd collided into, yup, you guessed it. Matthew, who hit the ground with the American, who fell on top of him, knocking the breath out of the smaller toddler. Matthew had gasped, unable to find the tears he desperately wanted to cry as pain spiked up his delicate spine. Alfred had grinned at him.

"Hi! My name's Alfred! And I don't like this half of America! Do you know how I can leave?"

Matthew had burst into tears. Alarmed, the four-year old American had asked him what his problem was and Matthew had tearfully responded, "why would you want to leave? This is_ Canada_." When Alfred asked where that was, he'd started crying even harder.

Which dragged Francis into an annoyed rant about how "ignorant and foolish" Americans were about the country north with "the fine French language" even though personally, Francis found Quebecois French a trifle crude and twisted on his ears. Alarmed, the four-year old American had begun to cry, not sure how to deal with an annoyed French guy shouting at him. And it was really scary, Matthew mused as he walked the familiar path to his boyfriend's house, to have a Frenchman screaming at you, especially when you really didn't know what you'd done to deserve it and didn't really understand what he was yelling about anyway.

And then Arthur had finally caught up to him. having run for almost ten minutes in panic, trying to find where the toddler had wandered off to for the fourth time that day.

Matthew remembered those times with great fondness. It had been all about him, then. He'd been Francis's only child, his only interest, the sole focus of all of his papa's love. It was a shame when he'd met Arthur-

Then the Canadian shook his head. Bad thoughts. Bad. He loved Arthur. He could be grumpy and distance sometimes, but he did love him. And Alfred. He couldn't have asked for a better brother. Sure, Alfred could be protective, thick-skulled, stubborn, and a complete ass, but he was the best. Matthew loved him.

And yet, he still felt a seed of... resentment, in his chest whenever he thought of the days when Alfred hadn't been the center of attention... It seemed so long ago. It felt almost like a fantasy now that he thought about it. Had he ever been the center of his papa's attention? Maybe. Had he ever been the center of anyone's universe?

As he came to Ivan's house, he realized that yes, he was.

Is. And he felt a wave of love crash into his gloomy thoughts, purging, washing his dark mind free of its resentful grumbling.

He quickened his pace, wanting to get to Ivan's house quicker.

"Hey! Mattie!"

He swung around at the sound of his name, though the urge to just keep walking occurred to him, since he wasn't used to being the "Matthew" others called for and actually looked for in a crowd.

To his relief, it wasn't just some stranger calling for some "Matthew."

It was Gilbert, whose face immediately brightened at the sight of him.

"Mattie! Are you doing anything right now?" the albino asked excitedly, running up to him. He grinned widely, his face a little too close for Matthew's taste. He backed up a little, giving a timid smile. "Hi Gil," he said shyly.

"Oh don't be such a stranger," Gilbert said amiably. "Hey, do you have a cellphone?"

"Um, yeah."

"Here, give it to me."

Matthew handed it to him.

"Why, do you need to make a call?"

"No," Gilbert said. "I have a phone. You have a phone. We are friends. Therefore, we sharing phone numbers so we can call each other." He put his number in Matthew's contact list. He was surprised (but then, not so surprised) to find Matthew had no contacts beside his brother and his father on hs contact list. Well, now he had Gilbert's phone number. Gilbert the Awesome Beilschmidt. It took a lot of typing and was too long, so he shortened it to GilTheAwes1B instead.

"Here, give me your phone number," the albino said enthusiastically, handing Matthew his phone and reaching for his own. Once Matthew tucked his phone inside his pocket, Gilbert handed him his iPhone. Matthew stared at it like it was from another planet. It might as well have been.

"I have-I'm not sure how-what-?" Matthew's eyebrows scrunched. "Where are the buttons?"

"It's a touch screen," Giblert explained. "Here, just tell me your number, I'll do it."

"Oh, okay. Um, 314-"

He took his phone back and carefully typed in Matthew's number under the title "CanadaBF1."

"Great. Now you can call me. Do you have texting?"

"No."

"Shame. Oh well, I'd prefer to hear your voice anyway."

Matthew flushed a little.

"Uh-uh, thanks?"

"Hmm-hmm. So where are you headed? Are you free? Wanna come with me to the Starbucks around the corner?"

"Well-"

"Or maybe the-?"

"Sorry. I have somewhere to go," Matthew apologized, giving him a little smile.

"Oh." The albino immediately deflated. "Ivan?"

Matthew shrugged noncommittedly. But Gilbert knew it was true.

"Oh. Well. I guess I'll go home then. But yeah, that's cool. See you later, Birdie," Gilbert said, forcing the rejection out of his voice. Because he hadn't been dejected, right? He'd offered as a friend, and like a friend, Matthew had declined. That was all. He just had somewhere else to be. That was all. He was most definitely not asking Matthew to choose Ivan over him because they weren't that far along into the game yet. He didn't like being patient, but for some reason, being patient with Matthew was a lot easier than being patient usually came to him.

Matthew gave him another smile and patted him on the back before walking away.

He came to Ivan's house and that polite smile widened into a joyful smile. Finally. The longing in his chest strengthened into an almost unbearable pull, a tugging feeling that encouraged him to go up the stairs and knock. The longing to see Ivan was almost too much for him to bear, especially after waking up in such a dark mood. He needed to see his personal light.

As soon as his fist knocked once, the door swung open and he was grabbed by the shoulders and hauled inside.

"I-?"

He stumbled as he shoved further into the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Ivan, what-?"

"Shhh," Ivan hissed, his hand seizing the Canadian's collar and pulling his roughly down to the floor. Matthew was forced to crawl to the living room, Ivan impatiently pushing him faster as he too crawled.

"What's the deal? Why are we crawling?" Matthew hissed, grunting when Ivan grabbed him by the collar again and pulled him behind the couch.

"My-my-you remember my sister?" Ivan said through gritted teeth, his eyes as close to fear as Matthew had ever seen them.

"Katyusha? Yeah, she's really nice-"

"Not Katy. I meant... Natalya," he said with a shudder.

"Um... didn't she leave? Went back home to Russia or something?" Matthew said. He remembered Natalya, but she didn't go to his school anymore. Briefly, she'd come to school, earlier than Ivan, actually, but then she'd left without much warning. The rumor was that she'd gone back to her homeland, Russia. Said she loved it too much to spend her time with all these "loud-mouthed American Capitalist pigs." To be honest, no one really missed her. She'd been rather.. disagreeable, to put it kindly. Meaning, she'd once broken Alfred's thumbs for coming on to her. But to be fair, Alfred came on to every girl and the best thing to do if you weren't interested was to courteously tell him no and he'd leave you be. But Natalya, all for confrontation, had been far too happy to "put him in his place." Alfred had stayed away from her after that.

"Only briefly. She wrote to me saying she couldn't stand being away from me. She said she loves Russia with all of her heart, but loves me with all of her being..."

"That's... creepy. And she's your sister," Matthew said, trying to stand up. But Ivan grabbed his hand and yanked him back down.

"She's out there. Now. Watching. Waiting for me to leave the house. When I saw you, I grew sick with fear. I wanted to warn you, but when I called-"

"What's the big deal?" Matthew asked, bewildered.

"She will hurt you, Matvey, if she can. She is insane," Ivan said despairingly, his eyes a little insane themselves. "She will stop at nothing to be with me. She wants to be with me forever. And if she knew that you're the one I love... she will see you as her enemy, as her opponent. And-and she's-she's-"

After that, most of what he said was a blubbering mess.

"Terrifying-possessive-don't understand-knife-was always a violent little girl- not truly evil, just misunderstood-sad how Mother-back in Belarus-" a lot of it was just fragments that Matthew only somewhat understood. He tried to calm the Russian down. But this proved to be ineffective.

"Don't you understand? She is insane," Ivan said, his eyes glinting wildly, both hands shaking Matthew's shoulders vigorously.

"You-you're _scared_ of her?" That was definitely not what he'd been expecting. He had no idea Ivan was afraid of _anything _much less _anyone._

Matthew yelped as his wrist was grabbed and he was hauled to his feet. Ivan shoved him into the kitchen. "Go out the backdoor," he said, gesturing frantically at the kitchen door leading out to his backyard, which opened out into another house's backyard. "She won't see you if you quickly run across the yard, jump over the fence, sneak into the opposite yard, and get onto the street. That street will lead you to-"

"Ivan! Calm down, I'll just have a talk with her-"

Ivan pulled his door open with more force than necessary.

"Get out."

Matthew bit his lip.

"But-"

"Get out."

He tried to hide the hurt in his eyes, but it didn't matter how he failed, because Ivan didn't even pause to look at his face. He pushed Matthew out onto his porch, then slammed the door shut.

Leaving Matthew standing outside, feeling very rejected.

He thought about knocking on the door until Ivan let him back in.

But... annoyance struck him all of a sudden.

Ivan had pushed him out. He clearly didn't want him around at the moment. Why should he beg to be let back in?

As Matthew scrambled over his fence and moved quickly through the backyard of the house behind Ivan's he realized he was alone. And maybe he should've begged after all...no, that was ridiculous. Why should he beg anyway? A somewhat childish urge to spite his boyfriend by going to spend time with someone else, and then shun him for a little bit for rejecting him like that, flashed through his head. It's a silly thought, Matthew admitted to himself. But the first part was reasonable. He couldn't just pine for Ivan or go home and do nothing, he should go do something.

With... who?

He couldn't go home, since Alfred was at war with Arthur, or was getting laid again. He didn't really have...

Oh.

Matthew pulled out his phone and turned it on.

He went down his contacts list.

Clicked on the number he was looking for, not that he really had to look for it, since there were only three names on his list. Four if you counted the one that had been added minutes before.

"Hey Gil? Listen, Ivan's...erm, busy, and I was wondering-?"

"No, Gil, we didn't break up."

"No, we're not fighting, he's just... busy."

"Gil! Okay, thank you! See you there!"

With that, Matthew hung up. Mildly annoyed that Gilbert had been very excited at the prospect of a breakup with Ivan, but also mildly pleased that Gilbert had answered on the first ring. As if he'd been waiting for him to call. He smiled faintly and went to the address Gil had given him.

* * *

><p><strong>Haven't eaten almost all day. Hope this update was worth it. Gonna go eat something before I pass out. <strong>

**Hope you enjoyed. **

***munch, munch***


	20. Chapter 20

**It's weird not to have Francis as Gilbert's best buddy, so good old Antonio is going to be his best buddy instead.**

**Man, it's weird having Gil and Lovino hate each other when I ship that pairing. But that's for another fic.**

**On to mine.**

* * *

><p>Gilbert's head turned wildly to and fro. He was trying to pinpoint Matthew the moment he got to the restaurant. Well, it was more like a breakfast diner. Restaurant was a little too formal for a small, clean bakery coffeehouse/ home-run diner. He'd been worried that Matthew would bail if it looked too formal, and too much like a "date" to be a friendly get together of two "friends." So he decided to make it simple for now.

Normally, he'd deny any enthusiasm for a date, since he thought it would be lame of him to look too excited (he was the awesome one after all), but this time was special, because his "date" didn't actually know it was a date. He'd been happy, ecstatic even, when Matthew had called. Yeah, sure, it had bugged him that Matthew's first choice had been Ivan, but he was gleeful that, for once, Ivan had fucked up and he got to be Matthew's support for once. Sure, Matthew had told him it hadn't been a fight, but he could tell it had upset the Canadian, and that gave him the golden opportunity to be the good guy for once.

This was a great opportunity to wiggle his way between Ivan and Matthew! But he had to be very careful about it, because it was obvious Matthew worshipped Ivan, and that wasn't going to change in a day. Oh but if only it would!

"Gil? Oh my god, look, Lovi, it's Gil!"

"Yippee," Lovino Vargas drawled, irritated to see the albino as usual. He glared at Gilbert, who stared evenly back. Lovino's fierce eyes embodied the hatred he felt for him and Gilbert couldn't honestly say it wasn't well-deserved. Antonio smiled a little less cheerfully than he had before. He had hated having to choose between Lovino and Gilbert, so whenever they were fighting, he did his best to stay out of it, though inevitably he'd be dragged into it. They'd been fighting a lot less, ever since Gilbert gave up beating the crap out of innocent people, but the animosity still lurked. Antonio was as dumb as dirt when it came to reading emotions, but even he knew that Lovino and Gilbert's hatred for each other went down deep and was palpable when both were in the same room.

"Hi," Gilbert said, turning his eyes to Antonio before seeing the little Italian turd made him too furious to speak. "What's up, Tonio?"

"Nothing! Me and Lovi were just going to the World Market store down the street from here. Then we saw you in the window and came in-"

"He dragged me in," Lovino growled distastefully, glaring out the window. Antonio ignored him and continued babbling.

"-And I was so excited 'cause I haven't see you for a while-!"

"Lucky us."

"-And I missed you-"

"You're the only one."

"And I call but you never answer-"

"Your boyfriend really doesn't want to be here," Gilbert snapped, his red eyes hard as he regarded Lovino. "It's kind of obvious, isn't it? If I offend you that much with my presence, perhaps you should get the fuck out since no one really wants you in here."

"Maybe you should!" Lovino shouted, his face instantly red.

"Don't fight," Antonio pleaded. "Can't you be nice to each other?"

"Nice?" Lovino screeched. "He's a dick! And you know it and I can't believe you won't support me!"

"Won't? He's my friend, Lovi! He's-"

"A bullying piece of-"

"Um, am I interrupting something?" a quiet voice murmured over his shoulder.

Lovino whipped around, ready to make a scathing remark. Usually he could come up with good insults on the spot, just on sight and with half a second of thought. But when he saw that weird blond kid, he ended up fumbling for something insulting to say, because he wasn't sure who this kid was. Hmm, oh wait a second! Now he knew who this kid was.

"You loud-mouthed jackass, son of a lardass! Stay the fuck out of-"

"That's Alfie. I can give him a message if you want," Matthew said dryly, a little bemused by his belligerent tone.

Lovino's fury faded and confusion and consternation replaced it. He still glared at him, but it he seemed to be studying him now instead of simply scowling.

"Who-who the fu-?"

"This is Matthew, his brother, you dumbfu-"

"Enough, both of you," Matthew murmured. Now normally, Lovino would've immediately raised his voice and Gilbert, not one to back away from a confrontation would've met his volume easily and soon, they would be making quite a scene. However, Gilbert, though nowhere near a coward, felt that making a scene would get him tossed out again, and that could not happen. And it would totally not be awesome to have to leave when he finally got Matthew alone. Well, mostly alone. He glared at Lovino and Antonio.

"He's right. Go away, Lovino, I've got someone else I'd much rather talk to," Gilbert snarled.

"As if I care! You're such a-such a... as if I really want to talk to you anyway!" Lovino spluttered, annoyed. He really wanted to make a sharp comeback or insulting remark but the abrupt end of the argument had left him confused and a little vulnerable. He searched for something to say, something to bitch at the two, but nothing came to mind, and he simply shut his mouth, flipped Gilbert the finger (which would definitely work for any situation where he couldn't find something to say), and grabbed Antonio's wrist. He yanked the Spaniard out of the cafe and started walking furiously, a lot faster than Antonio usually wandered through the streets. By the time Antonio had managed to calm him down enough to get him to at least walk at a more casual pace, Matthew had sat down across from Gilbert and both of them simply sat there in an uncomfortable silence.

"Sooooo," Gilbert drawled, just because he had to say something. He couldn't believe just how badly things had gotten, before anything had even gotten started! Lovino had completely derailed him. He'd been all set to be a sympathetic, kind, caring, compassionate douche-bag-nice-guy but that damn Italian had gotten his blood pumping and now he had a hard time controlling his voice and not being his normal loud self.

That and the always-uncomfortable-when-it-was-mentioned reminder of his bullying ways, which were still a very, very fresh wound that Lovino had picked at.

Gilbert stared at Matthew, trying to gauge any fear or anxiety maybe stirred by remembering his current friend was formerly his tormentor. He was so afraid of the idea of Matthew still being afraid of him. If Mattie was walking on eggshells around him then he'd never get anywhere with him.

To his relief, Matthew didn't look uneasy or anxious to be near him, just uncomfortable. Awkward. Socially incapable. Just shy.

Gilbert smiled a little. So cute. He loved how quiet Matthew was. It was just adorable and it certainly was a change from the kids he usually dealt with.

To calm himself down, he focused on Matthew's face. His sweet eyes. His cute flush and the way he was panting slightly, like he'd been running. His shy little awkward smile.

Adorable. And it got Gilbert's blood pressure down and brought his voice back under his control.

"Mattie! It's nice to see you!" He waved down a waitress, who asked for their orders. Matthew just asked for water while Gilbert went for a strawberry-banana milkshake with the proclamation that, "I love sweet stuff!"

Matthew smiled cordially.

"Nice to see you too. Thanks so much for inviting me. How are you?" he said, his voice painfully informal and casual.

Gilbert snorted.

"Relax, man. Hi, I'm fine, and no need to thank me, I thought it'd be awesome to see you! So what's up? How you doing?" the albino said enthusiastically.

"I-I'm-uh, fine," Matthew said, shrugging, his face a mix between nonchalant and grim.

"You don't sound fine," Gilbert said. And he was ecstatic at the way it came out. If he did say himself, it came out perfectly, not aggressive or ecstatic or pushy or nosey. Perfect. Concerned but in a cool way. Friendly and casual, but not callous. Perfect, he complimented himself. Now try not to mess things up. Try not to think stupid thoughts or say something embarrassing. _And if you do, then just play it cool, Gil, and pretend you meant to say it. That's how you're always awesome. Just keep your head in the game._

"It's... nothing," he said, shaking his head, his eyes troubled.

"Come on, what is it? Spill," Gilbert demanded, keeping his tone playful but trying not to sound too goofy. _Mein gott, I've never tried so hard to be awesome. Usually it comes naturally. But with Mattie I feel like I can't think straight, talk right, or be as awesome as I usually am._

_It's kind of humbling to be around him, I guess._

"Come on, you're clearly upset," the albino offered. Immediately he wanted to smack himself. Too assertive, too presumptive, what a bold, stupid thing to say!

Little did he know, Matthew was barely paying attention to those words and was considering what to say to him, having already decided to "spill."

The waitress placed a cup of water with icecubes and an extravegant, rosy-colored milkshake down in front of them. Matthew idly spun his straw around, watching the icecubes bob, then looking up at his albino friend, who was happily slurping his milkshake down. _He has a cute smile, _Matthew thought absentmindedly. Then looking down when Gilbert's eyes met his.

He wanted someone to talk to, and Gilbert was the only one he could really talk to. And if he was honest, he appreciated that Gilbert was here for him when no one else was. As a friend. It was nice to have a friend that he could talk to. Ivan's rejection had opened his thoughts to someone he normally would've shielded his thoughts to his best ability around. It was... kind of nice having someone other than his brother and his boyfriend to talk to. It was also a little strange because again, if he was honest with himself, he was still a little wary around Gilbert. It wasn't just that he used to be his bully, it was also that his personality was so confrontational and boisterous and having neither trait himself, he still found himself skirting around him. But he was sure he could get used to it. He had Alfred as a brother after all.

"Well, the truth is, I went to Ivan's house and he made me leave because he's afraid his sister will hurt me. Do you remember her? She was in high school earlier, remember? Before Ivan came she was an exchange student. She was here, at our high school, during our freshmen year. Do you remember her?" Matthew asked, not expecting him to.

"Um, hot Russian chick? I remember her breaking Alfred's thumbs, I think," Gilbert said amusedly, smiling. Then seeing Matthew's frown, he tried to force his smile into a serious frown. But he couldn't manage it. Serious just wasn't an easy emotion to fake for him. Instead he settled for intrigued. "Sorry, I'm sure that sucked for him. So what about her?"

"She came back to visit him, that is, Ivan. And he's really scared of her. Like terrified. I was barely in his house for a minute before he threw me out saying it wasn't safe and I could get hurt. Imagine that. He actually thinks he can't protect me from her and he's never thought-I mean, he's never-" Matthew shut his mouth, but Gilbert had enough to know what he was thinking. Matthew was surprised that his big bad boyfriend couldn't protect him. He's scared of his sister, Gilbert thought gleefully, and he's not brave enough to stand up to her for his boyfriend! Perfect!

"I guess I have to stay away from him until she leaves. And who knows when that'll be?" Matthew sighed.

"Well never fear, Mattie! We can just go to Ivan's house and tell her to leave him alone!"

Matthew gazed at him in amazement.

"What? If Ivan's afraid of her, I shudder to think of what she'd do to me if I went near Ivan in her presence. And after what she did to Alfred," he shuddered now, a grimace of unease on his face.

"You scared of her too?"

"Shouldn't you be?"

"No, hell no! I'm not scared of some nasty bi-"

"Gilbert!" Matthew interrupted him. "Don't be rude!"

"Sorry, sorry," Gilbert quickly apologized.

The waitress came back and asked them what they'd like for breakfast.

Gilbert looked expectantly at Matthew.

"Pancakes. With maple syrup," he said. Gilbert ordered the same thing, then leaned forward, a new glint in his eyes.

Matthew cringed a little and leaned back.

"Um, can I help you?" he asked critically.

"I was just wondering. Why did you look really, really unhappy when you ordered maple syrup?" he asked with a shit-eating grin. "Don't you like it? It's sweet."

Matthew grunted dismissively. "I love maple syrup," he said.

"What's so funny then?"

"Maple syrup in America simply does not compare to Canadian maple syrup," he sad.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Ah, you know so?" Gilbert said with a grin. "And if I were to say that you were wrong-?"

"I would say you've never tasted mape syrup. Ever. I'd say you've never eaten real maple syrup."

"And real maple syrup-?"

"Is Canadian," Matthew affirmed.

"Ah," Gilbert smiled. "So would you be willing to, ah-show me the delight of _real _maple syrup some time? I assume that since you love maple syrup, then you must have the 'real kind.'"

"Of course. Sometimes it's hard to find in America, the country of fake factory-made, industrial food," Matthew groaned, pouting.

Gilbert resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his pout, though he couldn't ignore just how cute a pout looked on him.

When Matthew's pancakes came, he made a face at the syrup. Gilbert teased him by taking it and pouring it _all over _his own pancakes, drowning them in generous pools of syrup. Messily, he cut his pancakes into pieces and took a bite.

"Hmmm, delicious," he moaned. "Just fantastic! Nothing could be better, I'm sure, nothing!"

Matthew surprised him by kicking him in the shin.

"Shows what you know! I'll show you! I'm going to cook you pancakes and show you how Canadians do it. The right way!"

Gilbert flashed him a bright smile, the most real smile Matthew had ever seen on him.

"I'll look forward to that."

* * *

><p><strong>Hi. <strong>

**It's been a while. So, eh, not off the hook yet, but it's coming, I can feel it, almost see it. **

**Anyway. The update. Um, sorry, nothing sexual, perverted, or angsty. Just.. eh, casual? **

**IDK, I kind of like how it turned out. Well. **

**Bye. **

**Hoping to update soon (and knowing that the hiatus is over and I will be updating sooner than last time),**

**Witchdoctr**


	21. Chapter 21

"Dude, I still think we should've gone to confront Ivan's sister."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again," Gilbert insisted. "What's the problem with my idea?"

"What's wrong? Everything! Going to Ivan's house and beating her a 'new personality' isn't a solution. Or at least, it's not a good one," Matthew said, half exasperated, half amused. He was surprised that Gilbert would actually offer _solutions. _He was onto Gilbert. He knew Gilbert wanted to be with him, _alone_. And it touched him that Gilbert, _like a good friend_, was offering solutions to fix his current problem, rather than exacerbate it. You know, like a smart guy who wanted alone time and could get it by doing the opposite of what he was currently doing. Being a nice guy, a friend.

Unbeknownst to Matthew, Gilbert was plotting like a not-so-nice guy.

_Mattie will totally think I'm an awesome friend if I act like one! So no wedge-driving, no Ivan-bashing, and absolutely no over-stepping the boundaries! Not yet anyway! My time will come. Just have to be a little patient. _

Gilbert smiled in anticipation, knowing that he could do it. It would take time, but he knew he could do it. Because he was Gilbrt fucking Beilschmidt. And it helped that Matthew, his prize, was always going to be there to motivate him, unknowingly. He just had to be himself. That was all. Gilbert Beilschmidt, most awesome guy in the world. No way could Matthew _not _fall for him.

They were walking around the neighborhood, not going to his or Matthew's place. They hadn't really discussed where they were going. They didn't really need to. It was an unspoken suggestion, to walk around, and just talk. So far, it wasn't as awkward as either had been afraid of. Gilbert had been planning on bringing up hockey (Mattie was Canadian after all; all Canadians are into hockey, he assumed, hockey and beer) as a default topic, but so far he hadn't had to resort to it, surprisingly enough. Matthew was oddly talkative today and they managed to talk about a lot of things, despite different interests.

Example One:

They'd been walking out of the restaurant, debating about food, and what type of food was best.

And then, Matthew had inquired about what kind of food Gilbert cooked, since he seemed so hung over German food, which he claimed was the most "badass, awesomest, tastiest shit you'll ever eat!" But Gilbert quickly told _him_.

Gilbert- Dude, I think cooking is totally boring! I don't cook food, I eat it!

Matthew- But cooking is fun and very calming.

Gilbert- Calming? But you're always calm, why would you need 'calming'?

Matthew- Not always. Calm, I mean. I'm not always calm.

Gilbert quickly dropped the subject, sensing some tension there. What Matthew neglected to mention was that he and Francis always used to cook together, back before Alfred had entered the picture. And even after Alfred came into the picture, sometimes he and Francis would cook. It was one of their alone-time pastimes that had been demolished after Matthew was beaten into a shadowy presence, there but not there. He'd always been quiet, yes, but apathetic to the world around him, and the things he used to love? Never. Not before-well, since darkness pervaded all other sources of light, all senses of escape, all reprieves and ways of relief. Heh, sounded almost poetic. Was that one of his interests? Poetry? He felt like at one time he'd loved reading poetry. But it was a long time ago. Before middle school. Before it all went to shit.

Sensing the mood, Gilbert quickly dropped it. It would've been a perfect time for an awkward silence to pop up in those moments when they're least wanted, but thankfully:

Example Two:

They'd been circling the block, near Matthew's house. When Gilbert had glanced up, he'd thought of Alfred. Perfect conversation starter. Perfect way to interrupt that awkward silence before it really got started.

Gilbert: Your brother is so lame.

Matthew: Why do you think so _today_?

Gilbert: When we saw that movie, Alfred totally pissed himself.

Matthew *pause* So he's kind of... self-destructive.

Gilbert: He's stupid.

Matthew: He's kind of, eh, thick-headed. He forces himself to watch scary movies. I think it's because it makes him feel brave.

Gilbert *snickers* Well he certainly isn't brave when he watches scary movies. So he's just deluding himself.

Matthew: But you thought it was scary too...

This had started a conversation about horror movies and the whole horror genre. It went to conversations about which actors and actresses who were terrible and half-assed in slasher films to actors and actresses in general, which, as I'm sure you're aware, can lead to a vast amount of subject to choose from.

They were actually just getting started; Matthew's eyes were starting to shine with enthusiasm and his voice had a lot of energy, and Gilbert felt like he was getting somewhere, like they were finally igniting some spark, like they were finally and truly bonding, when the last person (besides that interfering little pest Lovino Vargas, and he'd already had him once today, so his quota was fulfilled for the day) he wanted to see showed up.

Gilbert was actively babbling about how much he liked Nicholas Cage ("But he's a terrible actor..." "How could you say that, Mattie? He's so smart in the National Treasure movies!") when he saw the one person he didn't really want to see. Well, no, he guessed that wasn't entirely true. Just that in this particular situation, his brother was the last person he didn't want to see.

Ludwig Beilschmidt. His little brother. Cute kid, freshman, blonde, as opposed to Gilbert's bright white hair, bright blue eyes, as opposed to Gilbert's red eyes.

And his cute, friendly boyfriend, Feliciano Vargas. Clearly, flambuoyantly, and flamingly _gay. _

Hanging on his arm, chattering away as always, like a girl.

Immediately, Gilbert froze.

And he knew that he'd made a mistake. He'd hesitated. Flinched. If he'd just kept walking, kept going, and ignoring his little brother, he could've avoided a confrontation.

But no, now it's too late.

Ludwig sees him and stops, as does Feliciano.

"Ve~! Hi, Alfred, Gilbert!" he cried. "How are you? Where have you been?"

"Where indeed," Ludwig murmured, his eyes dark, his mouth scowling deeper than usual. Uh oh. Gilbert knew that grimace. It was a make-fun-of-my-sexuality-and-I'll-beat-your-teeth-in-with-a-hammer-and-a-wedge face. Well no, it wasn't actually that intense and angry looking yet, but that face was the pre-stage, the stage before the ass-kicking. It might seem lame to be afraid of your brother when he's angry, but you'd be scared of Ludwig Beilschmidt too if you pissed him off. And calling him or his boyfriend a fag definitely fell in that category.

Not that Gilbert ever had. It was just that... well, Ludwig wasn't sensitive about his sexual orientation being known, he was more like a ticking bomb, waiting for something to set him off.

"Hey Luddy, how you doing, little bro?"

Ludwig stared at him hard, his eyes flickering to Matthew. Gilbert gulped. Uh-oh. Now he knew what the problem was.

"Hey... Matthew, right?"

"Yeah," Matthew said, appreciating that this boy knew his name and hadn't mistaken him for Alfred. Or forgotten his name completely. "And you are Gilbert's younger brother, right?"

"Ja," Ludwig affirmed.

"Ve~!" Feliciano cried. "So sorry! I mistook you for Alfred! Sorry! You're his brother then?"

"Hmm-hmm," Matthew nodded.

"Forgive me!"

"It's-it's not that big a-"

"But of course it is! My brother, Lovino, hates it when he's mistaken for me! We're twins," Feliciano giggled, a little too giddy for Matthew's taste, but he said nothing, simply smiling graciously. "Other people mistake us too, and Lovi absolutely hates it and-"

"Ja, ja," Ludwig said impatiently, and Gilbert flinched. Ludwig was impatient. DefCon 2. Next step: DefCon 1- nuclear threat. "Can we talk alone for a minute, liebster Bruder von mir?"

Uh-oh, dearest brother of mine? Gilbert grimaced, but followed Ludwig to the nearest alley, ignoring their companions' curious gazes.

"What are they doing?" Matthew wondered.

"It doesn't matter," Feliciano babbled. "So once, Lovino went to Ludwig's house and Ludwig thought he was me and he kissed him and guess what Lovino did?"

As Matthew watched, with wide-eyed curiosity and shock, the overly enthusiastic Italian's wild gestures and inappropriately eager expressions, Gilbert was dragged into an alley.

"What gives?" he demanded. "Are you mugging me or something? If you're not, _we're_ going to get mugged and it'll be the most cliched death _ever." _

"Vhat ze hell are you doing?" Ludwig snapped.

"Whoa, calm down, bro," Gilbert protested immediately. German accent leaking back into his normally prim-and-proper American dialect? DefCon Zero. Which isn't technically a level for DefCon, but wouldn't that be cool? No? Well, it sounds cool. Yeah, Gilbert couldn't wait to use that one. It sounded cool to him, even it didn't really make sense. But so what? It was awesome, enough said-

"Bruder! Are you listening to me? Pay attention, this is important. What are you doing with that Kirkland boy?" Ludwig demanded, forcing his voice down.

"What? Mattie? Nothing!" Gilbert said quickly.

"Nothing? You expect me to believe that?"

"Well I guess not, but it's the truth whether you wanna believe it or not," Gilbert replied snarkily.

Ludwig stared at him coldly.

He stepped closer.

"Bruder, listen to me. I know since-since Mother-well, since she left, you haven't been... the same. But-but you can't-"

Now Gilbert's face morphed into a scowl.

"What does _she _have to do with anything?" he hissed.

"Gilbert, she-she hurt us all, okay?" Ludwig said. "But that's no-that's no reason to-"

Gilbert just scowled at him. He didn't want to talk about it, or even think about his past. It was too painful to look back at, and it was pointless, so why bother? He was so over it.

Of course, he knew this was just an excuse to ignore it, act like it never happened, and push the pain away, but isn't that what "getting over the past" meant anyway?

"I-" Ludwig looked incredibly awkward for a moment, and suddenly Gilbert was hit with just how young his brother was. You never really thought about it when you looked at him. He looked like an adult, a small adult, but one nonetheless. It was the strength in his eyes and the strength of his authoritative voice. A voice that never shook under panic, fear, nervousness, excitement or anxiety. But it was shaking now. And he seemed extremely vulnerable.

Only for a split second, though. The next second, the uncertainty disappeared and there was a sharp glint in his eyes.

He started again and the tremble in his voice vanished completely.

"I know you've been different since then. I've always made excuses for you and looked the other way when I knew you were doing... unconventional acts behind my back. I know her leaving was always hard on you. I've never questioned your coping methods, no matter how wrong I always thought they were-"

"If you're talking about the bullying, well you can just stop!" Gilbert exclaimed. "I-I don't do that shit anymore!"

"It's too recent to dismiss," Ludwig said sternly. "Just let me speak."

Gilbert was irked, but closed his mouth with a displeased snap.

"Bullying is-bullying is wrong and I'm glad you stopped. I'm glad you're not hurting people anymore and I'm glad you've changed your ways. You don't know how long that ate at me, knowing that the person you acted like, were becoming, at school was because you were confused and hurt inside-"

"Who are you, Dr. Phil?" Gilbert sneered.

"And now you seem more like the big brother I used to love," Ludwig finished, ignoring Gilbert's comment.

The albino's anger melted into shame. But again, Ludwig ignored him, pretending that he was simply stating facts. If he didn't, he'd never be able to tell his brother what he was thinking. If he hesitated, he'd never be able to say it. And that had been going on for far too long. For far too long, he'd kept quiet, knowing Gilbert was hurting people, bullying people, acting out just for the sake of getting their father's attention, taking out his pain on those he deemed "lower" than him. It had torn him apart from the inside, seeing the brother he loved so dearly acting like that, but what could he say? Even now, Giblert wouldn't admit he was wrong. Not openly. But that was fine. Ludwig wasn't looking for an apology.

"My point is that I've been quiet for too long. So I'll tell you this now. Leave. Matthew. Alone."

Any guilt Gilbert might've had dissolved. Anger bubbled up inside his throat, making him temporarily unable to speak. He could only glower at his brother, somewhere between hurt and betrayed and bat-shit _furious._

"I know you think that being nice to him and acting friendly with him makes you feel like you're making amends-"

"Wha-? You-I," there were so many things Gilbert wanted to say, but for some reason his brain was scrambling his words, trapping them inside his mouth.

"-Matthew is a nice kid. He has a boyfriend and now that you two have... resolved your issues with one another, you don't have-"

"WEST!" Gilbert shouted.

Ludwig blinked in surprise. Gilbert was using his old nickname, the nickname he'd given him back when they were young and naive. Back when Ludwig had an obsession with really old American cowboy shows, the old Westerns.

"I'm-I'm actually hurt you'd think I-you'd think I was just being nice to him because I feel like I have to," Gilbert said. "I like him, Luddy. I _like _him. Is that a crime now?"

"You-you-"

"Like like him. I really like him. I'm not just... doing som guilt trip thing, okay? He's just so-I- listen, just- I'm different now okay? Or you could say I'm the way I was before! I'm-I really care about him, not _just_ because I feel bad."

"I still think you should leave him alone."

"What? Why?" Gilbert demanded incredulously. "What's the problem now? You don't think I should be looking for a serious relationship now?"

"No, I don't think you should be looking for a relationship with someone who's already in one!"

That effectively shut up the albino. Seizing the chance, Ludwig pressed forward with his point.

"You're not... Matthew's one of your... victims. I don't think you two are right for each other. And I don't think you really like him, I just think-" he paused for a moment, hating himself to what he was about to say, but knowing he had to, "- you're possesive of what you perceive as 'yours' and now that Ivan has him, you're-you're obsessed with him. Following him, hurting him, thinking about him, I even hear you muttering his name in your sleep, not to mention I heard about that fight you got in with Ivan-"

"Ludwi-"

"And I think you need therapy."

"WHAT? WEST!"

"I'm sorry, but it's for your own good, older brother. Not just about... your obsessive tendencies, but about everything..."

Gilbert's mouth dropped open. For a second, he was stunned into silence.

But it didn't last long.

"WHAT THE FUCK, LUDWIG BEILSCHMIDT?"

* * *

><p><strong>I'M NOT CONTINUNG THIS STORY!<strong>

**Did I get your attention?**

**Great, okay, the truth is, I am continuing this story, however, I've been hearing from many other authors on this site that is banning M-Rated stories, and many of mine are M-Rated, so I'll probably be vacating the site and bringing my stories with me. **

**Now I'll be honest, I have no contingency plans because this was dropped on me very suddenly, just this morning, actually.**

**I might go to Live Journal or Tumblr, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, because I wouldn't know how to work those sites. I'm hoping to stay right where I am, but in case I can't, I'd like to inform you all of my possible departure. **

**I will continue this story and all of my other ones from another site if this one bails on me. I'll update like normal. **

**If my stories are deleted/blocked or are simply gone, I'll put a link on my profile, at the bottom, to my new page. **

**I might update with a link as well.**

**If Fanfiction doesn't ban M-Rated fics, then I'll continue as planned. **

**For now, I'll update like I usually do. **

**Just warning you! See you later, I hope! Hoped you liked the update.**


	22. Chapter 22

"No fucking way!"

"Gil!"

"No!"

"But Gilbert-"

"I said no, goddamnit!"

It was a trying battle Ludwig was trying to win, with no avail.

After their alleyway argument, Gilbert had been dismayed to find Matthew had left. According to Feliciano, they had been talking when Alfred had come up to him, running like a madman with his arms waving like windmills. He'd grabbed Matthew's arm and dragged him away, saying something like, "I NEED YOU HOME SO WHEN THE COPS FIND MY CORPSE, I'LL HAVE A WITNESS TO TELL THEM WHAT HAPPENED!" Feliciano assumed one of their dads was upset with Alfred and he didn't want to face him alone, so had Matthew as "backup." Feliciano understood Matthew's role, having the same position to his own brother Lovino.

Last night, however, Matthew had made up for it by calling him, so he didn't feel like he'd been ditched. Well, he still had, but he'd gotten over it once Matthew had called.

_He _had called _him. _

Score! Hard not to be elated by his crush calling him for the _second_ time that day (the first time was when _Matthew_ had asked him "out").

"Hi Gil. It's Matt-Matthew. Sorry I ditched you," Matthew had apologized. "Really sorry, it was Alfred, he came to bring me home-"

Having been in a verbal sparring match with his brother seconds before, Gilbert hadn't, at first, been as polite as he should've.

"Yeah? Was he babysitting you? Got worried about the nasty, brain-damaged Gilbert the sociopath being with his little brother?"

The other end had been silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, that was-uh, that was-"

"Don't worry about it. Hey Gil, are you okay? You don't sound... like you usually do. How are you?"

Gilbert felt a thrill of excitement at hearing Matthew call him "Gil." Twice!

"I-I-just, you know, being-uh, doing... fine," he stammered, ignoring his brother's hard-as-iron-nails glare on his back. He'd been lounging on his couch, purposely leaving his shoes on just to bother his brother. Gilbert did his best to look bored and dismissive, trying his best to seem like Ludwig was just being stupid and immature, as if he was the superior, smarter one. Ludwig, as if reading his mind, had rolled his eyes.

"You don't sound fine."

"I-I just- I've just been kind of fighting with my brother and... uh, shit's been difficult, you know?"

"Actually, I don't know," came the Canadian's somewhat bemused response.

"You're right. You know what? I'll tell you personally, say... uh, tomorrow? Tomorrow for lunch? That's great, wonderful in fact. Okay, okay, see you then."

Just after Matthew hung up, Gilbert had gotten into another shouting match until eventually Ludwig had found Gilbert's door slamming in front of his face. After that, both of them went to bed, furious and fuming.

Neither got much sleep.

And when Gilbert had woken up, his first thought was that he really didn't want to get out of bed.

But no, that wasn't true. He just didn't want to leave his room. He knew that Ludwig was lurking somewhere, waiting to bring up his failures and mistakes and personality flaws and all the shit he wanted so desperately to forget.

The only thing that forced him out was the urgent appointment he'd made with Matthew, one he couldn't and wouldn't avoid.

But how to get out without Ludwig seizing another chance to beat the Gilbert-piñata?

It turned out, there was no way to escape without any confrontation, because true to his character, Ludwig had been guarding his bedroom door. All night long.

For his efforts, Gilbert gave him another shouting match. Which brings us back to the beginning.

Ludwig inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and pushing every ounce of air back out. He needed to calm down. He needed to _calm down. _Simply shouting never accomplished anything, as proved by his father and his brother, both stubborn and loud. And very aggressive. If he wanted to get _anything _through his brother's thick (he thought a little nastily) skull, he'd have to control his own voice.

"Gilbert, I'm not going to yell at you anymore. I'm not Dad-"

"Yeah, you're not, so leave me alone," Gilbert said, lowering his voice to accomodate his brother's lowered tone without even thinking about it. It was something of an agreement they'd come to, non-verbally, never to resort to their parents' form of communication.

"I just think you could-" Ludwig started to say, trying to calmly cut through Gilbert's growing anger. But he was interrupted.

"I know what you think, Luddy. You think I'm crazy. Batshit nutso over here." Gilbert scowled, knocking on his head with his fist. The fury in his eyes was still burning, but it was starting to die down to a more manageable level.

"No, I never said that," Ludwig said, talking more slowly.

"But you want me to get a therapist. Because you think I'm a selfish, possesive, weird stalker who likes playing with people and discarding them like dolls the way Mom did, right?"

Ludwig winced. "No. Not like Mom. I didn't mean it like-"

"So _what? What_ did you mean, _exactly?_" Gilbert put as much disdain as he could force out into the three syllables.

"I don't know! I just thought maybe a therapist would help and Dad agrees that-he agrees with me..."

"Since when did I give a rat's ass about Dad's opinion?"

"You used to."

"So? That was then, this is now! Which you don't seem to realize with all this nostalgic, 'look at the past' bullshit. You're talking about moving on, but I already have! God, what the hell is your problem, Ludwig?"

"What's yours? Why are you so aggressive about this, Gilbert?"

"Because I don't take kindly to being called a nutso by my own little brother."

"I didn't call you one! I just..." Ludwig paused for a moment, not sure exactly what he wanted to say. The argument had been going on for longer than it should've.

"I just... want you to be... happy."

And suddenly, Ludwig found two wiry arms wrapped around his body and squeezing the life out of him.

"Then let me be happy!" Gilbert exclaimed, squeezing even tighter. "Let me see Matthew. I know you think I'm-I'm whacked out-no wait, don't interrupt, let me speak! I just want to be his friend, and that's all! You don't have to be the Dad I never had or anything. That's just really cliché. I can handle myself and so can Mattie. Really, I'm just making amends. And I already told you, I like him, so it's not like I'm just obligated or... doing it because I'm-I don't know! I like him and I really want to be friends with him! Isn't that- isn't that normal? He makes me happy, so I want to be around him. So aren't I normal? Normal in the head?" Gilbert let out a little laugh, releasing the tension a little bit.

"I think you're troubled. Not messed up, troubled," Ludwig said plaintively. "And I don't want to see you, or Matthew, or anybody hurt. So please. Just... indulge me? Please?"

Gilbert stared uncertainly at him, grimacing like the thought of even considering it was too painful to endure.

"I'll think about it. Nothing more, okay? Seriously, this is NOT a yes, this is just-"

Ludwig just hugged him again, relieved to have won what felt like a war.

"Okay, just because of this, I'm not considering it anymore!"

And his younger brother simply cracked a rare smile. One that not many got the privilege to see.

"Uh, Luddy? I said I would consider it, 'kay? Now let me go so I can go to lunch with Mattie."


	23. Mass Revolution?

WE'RE DOING IT WRONG.  
>Instead of taking down our stories or taking the ban and never coming back, we have to keep the stories saved somewhere else. When we get banned, make another email account, make a new FFn account, and repost them! If everyone did that, then FFn wouldn't stand a chance! Every time they took one off, the would get it replaced with three more. People need to write MORE lemons and just keep trying.<br>I refuse to bend to the will of FFn. They either open up an MA category or leave us alone. Screw the rules. I don't listen to then in real life, I won't listen to them here. It's been this way forever. If kids are on the internet, then they're going to find this sh*t whether or not FFn allows it of not.  
>Spread this message to everyone writing things like this, please. ~TearStainedAngel24<p>

BLACK OUT TOMORROW.  
>READ:There will be a BLACK OUT on JUNE 23rd (GMT time)<br>Don't log on, don't pm anyone, AND DON'T UPDATE.  
>DON'T EVEN ENTER THE SITE.<br>This is a protest so that we can truly unleash our imagination. If we are restricted with a list of rules of what we can't write, how are we supposed to do that?  
>If we do nothing, then FFN will take down fanfics rated M. They could be yours, your friend's, or one of your favourites so please participate.<br>Remember, tell everyone!  
>Thank you for reading._<p>

Witchdoctr's note: I'm not sure how many of you read that Naruto X Hetalia "story" which was really just me bitching under the guise of literature, but those who did know that I'm ready to give up. However, I felt like I should contribute since TearStainedAngel24 made me feel bad for NOT doing at least SOMETHING other than giving up. So I'm helping out by posting this message, and also "Blacking out" tomorrow. I won't be on the site, so don't think I'm ignoring you if I don't respond to PMs or reviews. I will be working on updates, but NOT on this site, on Microsoft.

I don't know how many of you think this is dumb, pointless, meaningless, or just don't bother reading author's notes, but I'd really appreciate if you'd participate. As you know, mass mutiny and insurrection strikes don't work if enough people don't participate. And it'd be really great if JUST FOR ONE DAY, you stayed away from .net completely.

I'm not sure whose idea this is and even I have to admit, it doesn't seem like it's going to affect FFN one bit, but you know, since I'm giving up, I feel obligated to help out those who haven't. Well, not yet.

PS: Please refrain from reviewing and telling me about what a "crap idea" this is or how "it's useless," because it's really just up to you. If you think it's dumb, then don't do it. I'm not going to nag you to do it. Keep your opinion to yourself and do what _you_ want. You don't have to tell me what you think of it.

Oh and on addition, sorry if you were bummed to see an author's note instead of an update. I will be getting to updates, just not tomorrow.


	24. Chapter 24

"Have you considered it?"

"Isn't it pretty obvious I have?" Gilbert snapped. When Matthew looked down pointedly, he was quick to apologize. "I'm sorry, I've just-kind of-"

"Been on edge," Matthew suggested.

"Yeah. That. And I don't need therapy," he snorted, taking a swig of his root beer. The caffeine settled nice and warm in his brain. "Or maybe I do."

He sighed, sneaking a quick look at Matthew. The Canadian was looking pitifully at him, and as much as he hated to admit it, Matthew looked like he wanted to say the words Gilbert didn't want to hear, but wouldn't.

Wait, that was really convoluted. Gilbert's brow furrowed in concentration. He felt like he had the words in his head, but they were scrambled and messed up. Maybe he meant-?

"Maybe you should."

Matthew closed his eyes, waiting for the explosive response that was sure to come.

But nothing. He opened his eyes again, blinking to make sure he wasn't imagining it. Gilbert was staring at him, his hands under his chin, his eyes thoughtful, though he looked a little confused, like he'd been day dreaming and had been interrupted.

"Why?"

"Maybe it would help."

"With what?"

Matthew did not respond. How could he respond without throwing Gilbert off the deep end, sparking an endless tirade of nonstop monologuing? No way, he decided. He'd been daring enough to even _suggest _that Ludwig might be right, that he might need therapy. He wasn't sure how much more daring he could get. But Gilbert was still looking at him, waiting for him to respond. "I-well, I just-things are-they seem tough for you and... it might be... nice to... um, to talk to someone?"

To his surprise, Gilbert dropped his intense stare, letting it slip into a goofy grin. He leaned closer, gripping the table. "I have you," he grinned. "And we're talking."

"But-but she could talk with you about... other things. More personal things," Matthew said.

The albino leaned in closer, gesturing that Matthew do the same. The Canadian hesitantly obeyed.

"I can tell you personal things," Gilbert murmured softly, "Can't I?"

"Uh-uh-" Gilbert gave one of his best shit-eating grins and reached forward, catching his friend by surprise and grabbing the front of his shirt, tugging him even closer. "Sure. Of course you can, Gilbert."

"Then what if I told you that I-?"

Matthew's phone rang.

Gilbert huffed, his hot breath fanning his face. He rolled his eyes and let him go, leaning back. Matthew smiled apologetically and reached into his pocket. He checked the name, surprised that anyone but Gilbert was actually calling him. But then he frowned as he realized who was calling him. Interrupting his and Gilbert's time together _again _at a bad time. "Hey Al, what do you want now? I'm kind of busy."

"With your faggoty Russian boyfriend?" came the surprisingly irate response, barked through the phone by a naturally loud American.

"I-what's-what's wro-?"

"Boning each other?" Alfred snarled. "Maybe screwing like rabbits while I'm stuck over here-"

"What-hold on! What's wrong? What do you mean your're 'stuck?'" Matthew asked, covering one ear to try and block out some of Alfred's intense volume.

"I'm on lockdown man," the American hissed. "That girl is after me! She's crazy!"

Matthew felt a chill of trepidation. "What girl?"

"That Russian bitch! The nutty one, the sister of your psychopathic boyfriend! Remember? She broke my thumbs, remember? I told you, they're both crazy! Nuts, completely nuts!"

Something glass shattered on the other end.

The Canadian flinched.

"What's the deal? Is it that bitch Alfred?" Gilbert asked casually.

"I-one second, Gil!"

"This is dangerous, Mattie! See? See? Dating him is crazy! You have to deal with this-this psychotic bitch and-" an unearthly scream split his eardrums. "Get away from me, you biiii-"

Suddenly, his voice became distant. He screamed again, something unintelligible, and then was cut completely short.

"Al? Alfred? Bro?" Matthew's voice filled with panic.

"GIVE ME THE PHONE!" someone screamed into his ears. He flinched again, dropping the phone. Gilbert swooped in, saving it before it could hit the ground.

"Gilbert-" Matthew started to say, but it was pointless. His albino friend put the phone to his ear. "What the fuck is your deal, you little American turd?" Gilbert spat, extremely annoyed that another "moment" had been ruined by the same person. A second time. Gilbert would be damned if it happened a third time and he was about to tell Matthew's brother exactly that.

Except...

"Is this the one called Matvey?" a voice as cold as ice hissed demonically into the mouthpiece. Gilbert felt a chilly shudder of danger, but he ignored it. He could tell it was a girl and there was no way that he would be scared of a girl.

"Uh no, this is the sexy one called Gilbert the Awes-"

"Shut up!" the voice shrieked. "I want to talk to the one called Matvey-Matthe-" suddenly in the background, he heard a mighty war cry and he heard Alfred screaming something harsh before the voice on the phone growled something equally harsh. Then he heard frantic thumping and a shattering crash before something slammed against something hard. "Mine!" he thought he heard someone shout.

"YOU-!" Gilbert never got the pleasure of hearing the insults the mysterious female voice could come up with, because abruptly the phone call ended.

The albino stared at the phone, a look of consternation on his face, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

"What just happened?"

But Matthew was standing already.

"Sorry, I've got to go now-!"

"No, no, not at all! I think this will be fun!"

"What? But you're not-"

"Coming? Fuck yeah, I'm coming! Can't keep me away!"

* * *

><p><strong>...<strong>

**...**

**Thanks for reading. **


	25. Chapter 25

"He's mine! He's mine, you American slob!"

Alfred had no idea what had happened. He'd been minding his business, lazing about on the couch, when he'd heard a nasty crunch. Being a troublemaker and being able to easily name most "naughty" sounds, he knew instantly that it was glass breaking. He'd shot up and run to see what it was. And to his shock, it was this hot, slightly-familiar looking chick with crazy in her eyes and a knife in her hand. And boy, did things get out of control from there.

There was the fighting, which sucked, because (and he'd never admit this to the light of day) she was a hellish fighter, a scratcher and a biter and in general, a fierce pragmatic fighter. He'd thought he had the advantage, being stronger and taller and faster and some martial arts training. But she had the edge because she was a psychotic bitch with unpredictability on her side. Alfred never knew what hit him.

Alfred swore as something hard hit his temple, making him see stars. For a moment, he was shocked.

And that moment was his undoing.

A knife was pressed against his throat, hard enough to prick his skin. Blood trickled down his neck, but it was just a few drops and he was already bleeding anyway.

"Move and I vill slit your throat," she hissed.

Alfred grinned at her.

"You know, if we weren't fighting, I think we'd be fucking," he said, casting a glance at their hips, which were pressed against one another. Then gasping as he felt the knife pressing just a little more. "American pig!" she shrieked, following it up with an insult in Russian that he couldn't understand and therefore couldn't be offended by. "I remember you, you whore!"

"Whore?" Alfred whined. "I got around. That's different. I wasn't being paid. I should've been, just because I'm that awesome in bed, but-"

"Shut up," she hissed. "I didn't come for you anyway!"

"A shame," he said. "I could've made you, you know, if you hadn't decided to literally bust my nuts." And they still ached too, where she'd punched them. But he imagined they'd hurt for the next few years. Technically, the punch had been kind of lobsided and with less power than it would've had due to the chair getting in the way, but it still hurt.

"Wha-?" it took the girl a minute to figure out what he meant. And when she did, her eyes narrowed.

"Filthy stinking, insufferable-"

"Crazy, nasty, fat, ugly-" Alfred countered. The girl shrieked and the knife went over her head. For a second, Alfred was genuinely afraid that she was going to stab him and kill him. After all, she truly was nuts, wasn't she? She was the one who'd broken his fingers before. Now he remembered her, but it didn't make him feel any better. Especially not now, when he was _going to die!_

But it was a good thing Alfred's body didn't freeze up when in danger. His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, forcing her to drop the knife. She shrieked in pain, then proceeded to wrench her wrist free and beat his chest with both hands. But when she did, it wasn't forceful or powerful or as pain-inducing as it could've, and should've, been. He stared at her and was shocked to see tears dropping from her eyes, staining his shirt. She was crying? Straddling his chest, beating his already beaten and aching chest, and sobbing like her life was over. Sobbing like her eyes could do nothing else. Sobbing directly from the inside.

"You damn bastard, you stupid fat asshole, I hate you, I hate you," she shrieked. "And I could kill you! I want to kill you!"

"Just try it, bitch!" Alfred baited her. But he flinched inwardly when she got off him and curled up inside herself against the wall, still crying her eyes out.

"Why do you hate me?" she cried. "Why? What did I ever do to you? How-how could you h-hate me?"

"Well, you just tried to kill me for no reason," Alfred said amicably. "So it's justified."

"I'm sorry," the girl moaned. "I'm so sorry. Oh Ivan, I'm sorry, I just love you so much. Why don't you care about me? Why don't you love me anymore? I'm-I don't-I don't think I could handle being alone anymore..."

Alfred felt his heart drop to his knees.

He knew those words. He knew that tone. He knew these tears.

He'd heard Mattie say something like that before. He remembered Mattie crying like that, one night, back when they were kids before they grew apart.

He knew that feeling. He knew it well. Back when it had just been him and his dad, he'd been alone. All of the time. Back when he spent his childhood waiting in the kitchen for his dad to come back while the babysitter sat on the couch hogging the television and smoking. His father had always done his best to provide for him, working until his eyes were red and his muscles were torn apart from all the frantic working 24/7. But he hadn't had the father he wanted and needed, craved for. None of the goofy movies or "mindless videogames" or fishing trips or any of the stuff fathers and sons share before their time together is up.

He loved his father. Always had. But when he was gone, what did it matter? He was alone, dreadfully alone.

And Alfred felt his heart rip, a second time, as he realized exactly how Matthew must've felt, all these years.

Alfred crept over to her cautiously, daring to put an arm around her shoulders and tug her closer to him. She didn't respond or even seem aware of his contact.

"So alone-Mother never loved me-no one did and how could they? I'm-I'm-" she sobbed, unable to voice what the word she wanted for a moment. "A-a-"

"Misunderstood, lonely girl," Alfred finished.

She looked up, glaring at him. "Get your hands off me," she hissed.

"Hey, hey," he tried to say comfortingly. "This is what normal human beings do, honey. When they try to comfort someone else, they hug them. Hugging=good. Stabbing = bad. Come on, let me hug you."

"Get off me!"

She struggled again, but he wouldn't let go, resulting in the both of them falling over in a tangle of limbs.

"Ouch! You idiot! Get your fat ass off of me," she growled. "And you're bleeding all over me!"

"Geez, sorry for being human. You know, literally because you hit me really hard and I'm bleeding, and also figuratively, because I thought you seemed kind of sad so I tried to hug you. You know, human stuff."

"Why?" she hissed. "Why would you hug me, you fool? I should just castrate you."

"No, you shouldn't," Alfred said, grabbing his crotch worriedly, as if afraid his balls might've disappeared without his awareness.

"Why would you touch me? No one has the right to touch me execept-" she faltered. "Shut up! Shut up! And leave me alone!"

"What?" he roared. "_You_ attacked _me_, remember?"

"Shut up! I hate you! Don't do that ever again! Don't ever touch me!"

"Okay, okay, fine! I won't. Just trying to be nice, though God knows why since you made me bleed my own blood. 'No one makes me bleed my own blood'," Alfred grinned, quoting one of his favorite movies. Dodgeball:A True _American _Underdog Story. Ben Stiller. God, he loved that movie. He laughed at the thought of it.

The girl scowled at him. But something in her eyes were different. There was some emotion sparking inside of her that Alfred couldn't name. Was it longing? Surprise? Regret? He had no idea and honestly, he wasn't good at reading emotions. Leave that girly stuff to Matthew.

"You're an idiot," she said with less venom than before. It was more like a statement than an insult.

"And you're a bitch," he stated.

She growled something unintelligibly in Russian and looked away, leaning against the wall once more, her eyes fluttering shut. For a few minutes, Alfred let her have a few minutes to herself, to think and gather her thoughts. But then, the curiosity became too much.

"Okay, seriously!" he shouted, scaring the living daylights out of her. "You've got to tell me! What's your deal? Why did you come in here like a nut, demanding that someone is yours? Are you talking about Matthew? Cause you can have him. I wish he'd date someone, anyone other than that Russian-"

She threw him a withering glare. "Sunflower," he said, replacing the word he'd had in mind. "Because he's such a-a bright and lovable guy."

She snorted contemptuously, putting her head in her hand with a dismissive toss of her head. "Stupid," she spat. "I don't care for the one called Matvey! I want to kill-"

Here, Alfred threw her a withering glance and she, tired and rather spent from wrestling with him for the last few minutes, re-thought her words. "His feelings for Ivan. Ivan is mine," she rasped. "Mine!"

"Right. Except, you're siblings. By like, blood," he said.

She let out a sigh, a heavy sigh. It wasn't a you-big-dumbass sigh. It was a please-God-why-does-the-world-suck-so-much? sigh and again, he felt his heart reaching out to her. But he dared not let his hand reach out to her, lest it be torn from his body.

"I know. I know," she sighed. "I don't... truly wish to... I just want him to... for someone... to be with me. And-and never let me be alone aga-" she stopped abruptly. She'd realized just who she was talking to, Alfred thought, with regret. "Nevermind."

He didn't push it.

"Alfred?"

Uh-oh. What was it he'd screamed into the phone when he'd called Matthew? Something about-

He heard a slam as the door was shoved opened so hard it hit the wall. And who else but Gilbert Beilschmidt came rushing into the room like a bull?

He saw the Russian girl, the one whose tears dried up immediately, whose eyes hardened into dangerous flints, whose mouth set itself into an angry, determined snarl, grip her fingers tight, forming fists.

"Uh-oh."

"Alfred? Alfred?" he heard his brother calling.

"I'll save his pussy ass!" Gilbert shouted. "And _I'll_ be the hero!"

Alfred barely had time to be pissed that the albino had stolen _his _line before the overzealous fool went and dove at Natalya, grabbing the cloth of the front of her dress and yanking her up to his level.

"Hey bitch! Leave that pussy-assed American alone!" he shouted in her face.

"Let go of me," she hissed through gritted teeth, her hands now claws. "Or I'll tear off your-"

"Gilbert let go of her!" a new voice, Matthew's voice, shouted.

"Natalya, kick him in the nuts!" Alfred encouraged. "Gilbert, get your fucking hands off of her!"

"Or you'll what?" Gilbert taunted.

It looked like any second, there'd be some kind of epic battle royale, like Natalya would hit Gilbert and he'd hit back and Alfred would dive at Gilbert and Matthew would try to restrain Gilbert and in the end, everyone would just be rolling around on the ground and making an even bigger mess, but thankfully, it didn't have to come to that, because the worst and possibly best thing happened right at that moment. Who else would walk into the scene but the man of the hour?

Ivan Braginski, who'd actually been sneaking out of his house to try and _avoid _his sister, find his boyfriend, and get him _away _from Gilbert, walked into what looked like a battleground. His mouth fell open and his violet eyes widened and he looked surprised. Not extremely surprised, shocked, or close-to-a-heart-attack, but mildly surprised, like he was only a little bit surprised to see what looked like a Battle Royale between people he hated, people he loved, and people he tolerated.

It took him a second to process it, and even then, he still couldn't fully process what he was seeing.

"Um, am I interrupting something?"

* * *

><p><strong>I couldn't resist. I shamelessly support BelAme or whatever the portmanteau is. If this seems extremely rushed, it was, but not because I didn't have the time. When I was writing this update, for some reason, I started speed-typing like a demon and I just couldn't slow down. If there are typos or grammar errors, I apologize. I'll go over this again, later, but right now I can't because my fingers are tingling and my wrists are burning. <strong>


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:**

**Hi, it's Witchdoctr. I've been kind of depressed recently. Mostly because my creative fuel for this story kind of went plop! when my enthusiasm for Hetalia died down a bit. I've been getting into other *gasp* FFN interests, like Pokemon. Recently I spent maybe three hours writing a Pokemon fic and no one seemed to like it. I guess it's because the fanbase for PKMN stories is too vast for a single story to get much attention on the first few days. I only have twenty views, can you imagine it? I guess having a story that people actually like gets to your head. I remember when I was first writing, my stories got like fourteen views a MONTH. It was a lot more depressing back then because I had less to do back then and was constantly checking my email... **

**Oh wait, what am I doing? I'm sorry. **

**Mostly for screwing around with you by pretending that this was an Author's Note and NOT AN UPDATE, because guess what? **

**This is an update. And this Author's Note is completely pointless. **

**Anyway, one last thing before I get to my update: **

**tino vainamoinen lover: **Thank you so much for your review. It really kicked me into writing again. I wasn't planning on working on it, but then I saw your review and I felt terrible. Thank you so much!

**Everyone, it's because of their review that I've updated, so you guys should thank him/her. **

**Okay, done prattling. **

**Hilarity and Heartbreak shall ensue!**

* * *

><p>For a good minute, everyone just stared at each other amidst the wreckage of what had once been the KirklandBonnefoy residence but now resembled the touchdown site of a hurricane. A hurricane called Hurricane Natalya. Some of it was Alfred's fault, but since she started it, his name for the event would be Hurricane Natalya since she initiated said destruction. He only hoped his dads wouldn't kill him... too hard.

"Um... awkward?" Matthew said meekly. Gilbert nodded, his mouth slightly ajar. His fingers went limp and he let the Russian girl slide from his grip. She swayed slightly, leaning against the wall and staring at the newcomer.

Alfred nodded his head in frantic agreement. Then he groaned. He was starting to feel a little light-headed. He hoped he wasn't going to bleed out and die. That would really suck. Plus it would really ruin his day.

He swayed a little, stars starting to swirl dangerously across his pupils.

"Oh my god!" Matthew squeaked as he saw his brother's eyelids shut. He darted forward but wasn't fast enough to prevent the teenager from crashing to the ground. He kneeled down beside his brother, nervously checking his pulse. "Alfred? Alfred!" he shook him a little, relieved to see his eyes slip back open. "'M fine," he murmured. "Just feel kind of funny. Think I-I bang-bang my knee..."

"What?" Matthew asked.

"I'm-Imma tired," he groaned.

"What did you do to him?" Gilbert asked, somewhere between amused and bemused. His words seemed to set off a spark in Natalya. With a little cry of happiness and maybe a little of insanity, she bolted at Ivan who barely had a millisecond to react in any way other than his eyes widening slightly and planted a kiss on his lips.

Gilbert's eyes filled with mirth and his lips twitched into a disbelieving grin. Instantly, he covered his mouth with both hands. If you looked at him you would think it was because he was shocked or stunned but in reality he was trying to contain his laughter. _Incest. Best thing in the world, _he thought. It wasn't the fact that he liked to imagine Alfred and Matthew kissing (which he had, in his most explicit, wild fantasies). It was the fact that this meant Ivan had just lost a point.

Ivan felt bile gurgling in the back of his throat. He grimaced and tried to pull himself back, but his sister doggedly persisted, pressing herself closer to him instead. She pushed him against the door, effectively slamming it shut. He broke the kiss, shaking his head like he was trying to shoo away a fly. "Get off!" Ivan yelled, angry enough to roughly shove her off and away from him. She looked hurt; there was a trembly spark in her eye that he knew could mean outrage or the desire to start sobbing hysterically, but he couldn't look at her. His eyes were on Matthew's.

Matthew wanted to look him in the eyes, he really did, but for some reason when Ivan's sought his, begging and pleading for forgiveness, he couldn't. He licked his lips and shook his head a little.

"I'd say that was sexy, but neither of you is really hot, so I'd appreciate it if you guys took it somewhere else," Gilbert snarked.

"Gross. You're-g-guh-ross!" Alfred laughed. "Hahaha, I'm bleeding from the neck!"

"What?" Matthew exclaimed, alarmed.

"Hmm-mmm," Alfred said conversationally.

"I'll get the First-Aid kit!" Matthew stood up and headed for the kitchen.

Ivan started to follow him, but Natalya seized his arm, her eyes wide and pitiful. "Please, Ivan, why can't you love me the way I do?" she pleaded.

"Because we're siblings. I can't love you the way you want me to and honestly, you shouldn't love me... that way," he finished lamely. "Let go of me. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I need to talk to my boyfriend right now." He added the last four words knowing they would hurt her. He knew they would. He had intended for them to sting. But knowing that he was trying to hurt her didn't make seeing tears building up in her eyes any easier to see. He pursed his lips and swallowed before following Matthew into the kitchen.

"Rejected!" Gilbert cawed.

"Dude, not cool," Alfred said, coming back to his senses. Damn, when had the girl gotten such good hits in? He felt like he'd been hit by a car.

"No, what's not cool is coming into someone's home and trying to kill them because they're obsessively in love with their flesh-and-blood brother," Gilbert retorted. Alfred wanted to spring up and punch him, like he might've if he had been in normal condition. But he was aching too much. Instead, he ignored Gilbert, choosing to worriedly stare at Natalya. The girl was standing in the same place, not moving, not twitching or even shaking. She just stood there, staring at the empty place her brother had filled. Alfred felt his secretly tender heart go out to her. She just looked like she needed a hug. The reason she looked so crushed as incestuously wrong, but regardless of how wrong the reason, it still must've really hurt.

"Matvey."

Ivan waited, but Matthew didn't look up. The Canadian was rifling through drawers, pulling them open and shutting them closed just as quickly. He seemed absorbed in his work, but Ivan could see a slight tension in his shoulders.

"Matvey, I'm sorry."

The blond nodded, still not meeting his eyes. He kneeled, pulling the cabinet doors under the sink open. After peering inside for a moment or two, he frowned and shut them.

"Matvey, will you please talk to me? Why are you angry?"

"Gee, Ivan!"

Ivan flinched, something he rarely did when his sister wasn't the cause.

In the other room, Gilbert grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Alfred smiled a little. _Attaboy, Mattie!_

Matthew stood up so quickly he almost clipped his head on Ivan's nose. Ivan found an irate Canadian almost face-to-face. Normally, Matthew would be a lot smaller, more hunched over and cowed, but now he glared at his boyfriend, jutting out his thin neck and tilting his face aggressively forward, making up for the vast height difference. Ivan actually leaned back a little, more than a little nonplussed.

"I do not appreciate having to be in mortal danger for you to finally visit me!"

Ivan blinked.

"What? _That's_ what you're upset about?"

"I'm upset that you hide in your house from your sister, yeah. But I'm not just upset with you. I am _pissed _with you," Matthew clarified. "Let's start somewhere, shall we? You threw me out of your house with some crazy explanation and didn't bother to call me or contact me in any way. Then when you finally do, it's when_ your _insane sister is trying to kill _my _brother!"

"Matvey, this isn't my fault!" Ivan protested. "Natalya, I thought- I thought it was best not to... get you involved..."

"Oh really? Your sister is in love with you and you don't think your boyfriend should get involved?" Matthew asked irately. "Damnit, Ivan! I don't blame you for having a disturbed sister! I blame you for leaving me in the dark when I'm involved! She came here because she's clearly... in need of help. Instead of just running and hiding, I'd really appreciate it if you tried to fix the situation instead-"

"Fix it? I don't think you're being fair! You don't know what I've done to try and help her! But it's impossible. She's just-I just can't... deal with both of you at the same time-" Ivan froze as the words came out of his mouth. Matthew's face instantly flashed.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like-"

"Ivan," Matthew said, his voice oddly controlled. "I get that you're scared. And seeing Alfred beaten to the pulp in there, I don't blame you. I might be unfair to be angry with you, but it's what I'm feeling right now. I am upset because you blocked me out of your life completely and put me in the dark for something that apparently I am involved in. But mostly... mostly I'm upset that you-you didn't even try to contact me. Like the moment things get bad you forget about me."

Ivan felt his heart drop as he heard the last few words. Well fuck. That was what it really came down to. Feeling shut out. Forgotten. Again.

"Mat-"

"Don't speak!" Matthew said sharply. "I really just-I really-I know that's a stupid reason to be scared. I know it's immature and stupid, but it's what I'm feeling right now and I-I just need you to leave me alone, okay? I just need to calm down and-" he sighed, shaking his head. "-I don't know, just simmer down. I'm not... angry with you. I'm just frustrated." He turned around, his arms planted on the countertop. He was still scowling, but it was more of a grimace than a scowl now. Ivan wanted to defend himself, to say something, but he felt his tongue would betray him, so he just nodded. Then he held his hands outspread, face pitiful.

Matthew looked at him hard for a moment, then gave in. Slightly reluctant, he took a few steps forward and gave him the hug he wanted. Ivan wrapped his arms around him, trying not too push it but unable to prevent himself from seeking more intimacy. Matthew rubbed his back lightly, then retreated. "I guess the First-Aid kit is in the bathroom," he said.

"Guys?" Alfred called plaintively. "It's nice that you guys are talking and venting your feelings and all that heart-to-heart stuff, but I kind of think I'm going to bleed out or pass out and I kind of don't wanna do that, so could you save it for another time?"

Matthew began to leave but not before glancing at Ivan one last time. "We'll talk later," he said.

"Thank God! I thought you were never going to say that!" Alfred shouted.

"Stop being such a whiner! If a First-Aid kit is all you need, then I doubt you're in need of urgent medical care," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes at the theatrics. But then again, if he was hurt and Matthew was leaned over him, dabbing at his wounds and looking as sweetly worried as he did when fussing over Alfred, then maybe he'd be melodramatic too.

Alfred wasn't really thinking about the cuts or the bruises or the feeling of being hit repeatedly with a blunt object. He was thinking about how Natalya had snuck out of his house without anyone but him noticing.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't really like how I ended this one. But I'm glad I got the motivation to update, thanks to Tino Vainamoinen Lover for reviewing. Thanks to everyone for reviewing and I'm sorry, again, for not updating as soon as I could've. I had this half-finished bout ten days ago but just couldn't get it finished until now. See you next time. <strong>


	27. Chapter 27

Matthew sighed, letting his head plop down against the couch pillow. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, letting the light blind his eyes. For a moment, he just breathed in and out, deeply. It was nice, just for a moment, to sit still and just not think. He blinked.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. The word reverbrated in his head, swirling inside his thoughts. And yet, he just couldn't shake the stubborn feeling that he wasn't completely wrong. For the past few days, he'd been alone. _You're so pathetic, _he sighed to himself. _So immature. _He was... upset, to understate it. Immature, childish, unfair. Maybe it was unfair to be upset with his boyfriend. Maybe it wasn't right to be so angry. Heck, he'd never felt irritated, no, angry the way he did now. It was a foreign feeling. And to be angry at _Ivan _of all people! Thinking about it, Matthew felt guilty. He wondered if he should apologize.

But the funny thing about feelings is that no matter how much you think and reason and consider them it doesn't change the feelings you have.

"Matvey?"

Matthew's guilt vanished and he closed his eyes.

"What?" he said, trying not to sound cold or annoyed. But it came out a lot chillier than his usual tone.

"Are you still mad?"

"I'm pretty sure. But... I guess not as much," he said, opening his eyes only to squeeze them tightly shut and rub them. He felt the couch pillow beneath him dip slightly as a weight was dropped beside him. He felt a tentative hand on his shoulders. "Ivan-"

"I'm sorry," Ivan blurted. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that I didn't contact you. I'm really sorry I left you alone for so long. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. I'm really sorry I kept you in the dark. I'm really sorry for your sister. I'm really sorry for your brother getting the crap beaten out of you-"

"I object!" Alfred shouted. "We both lost equal amounts of crap!"

"At least he admitted that much!" Gilbert shouted. He bounced into the room, his red eyes still excited. Matthew looked up, surprised.

"You're still here?"

"Hell yeah! I told you I'd help clean up! But since you're clearly taking a break, I'll join you!"

Daringly, Gilbert plopped down onto Matthew's lap.

"Ou-!"

"Maybe you should get back to cleaning," Ivan suggested darkly, his eyes slightly deranged.

Gilbert turned, causing Matthew to groan in pain. "Ouch! Gil!"

"Maybe you should. Me and Mattie are busy," the albino said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Gilbert! Get off! That hurts!" Matthew complained. He winced. "Ouch, my balls!"

"Wow-how!" Gilbert exclaimed. "You said 'balls,' man! You know how crazy that is? This guy, saying balls!"

"Get off him, Gilbert," Ivan said quietly. And even though Gilbert would never admit it outloud or even inside his head, he knew that that was the "I'm-not-taking-anymore-shit-from-you," voice and he was rather intimidated by it. He hastily slid off him, forcing his body between the two of them.

"Thank you," Matthew said, wincing and rubbing his crotch. Then blushing and removing his hands rather quickly. He glanced down, not noticing that the teenagers sitting next to him were both staring at him, specifically at one spot. But not for long.

Still, Gilbert felt the urge to poke a little bit of fun.

"His eyes are a little bit higher than that, Ivan. Try not be too naughty now," Gilbert said, half-teasingly, half-challengingly.

Ivan didn't take the joke too kindly.

"Don't worry. We won't be too naughty...until we're alone," he said, throwing the albino a responding challenge. Gilbert glowered at him, but when he opened his mouth, he was interrupted.

"You're not being 'naughty' anywhere, ever," Alfred shouted rudely, even though he was right behind them and didn't need to shout. "Not with my brother. Ever. Hear me? Neither of you are touching-"

"Shhh, Alfred," Matthew said.

"Shh-hm? What?"

"Shhh. You're too loud," the Canadian faux-whispered.

Alfred kneeled in front of him, planting his palms on Matthew's knees and leaning close. "Psst. Mattie. You're too quiet."

"Not today he wasn't!" Gilbert crowed. "I think he's growing a spine. Probably because we've been... hanging out a lot, recently. I must be rubbing off on him."

"Hmm-hmm," Matthew agreed. "Thanks, Gil."

"Wha-? No, not that you don't have a spine already-! I mean, well..."

"Fumble!" Alfred shouted gleefully. "Keep talking, you're just digging your grave deeper." He put his head in Matthew's lap with a melodramatic sigh. Gilbert tried not to think dirty thoughts while Ivan did his best not to let his dirty thoughts show on his face.

"Come on, guys, that's enough. Let's get back to the cleaning. It's not so bad, anyway. You just knocked over a lot of stuff and threw a lot of things. I guess the lamp is reparable and the table leg can just be glued back on, but the glass of the window is probably replaceable-"

"Wait!" Ivan pouted. He scooted closer to Gilbert, forcing the irritated albino offf the couch and making the American lean away in disgust. He put a hand on Matthew's shoulder and it crept around his shoulders. "Forgive me?" he simpered. "You want me to repeat my apology?"

"You know true apologies shouldn't have to be repeated, not if they're from the heart," Gilbert said loudly.

"I don't think someone like you has the right to preach righteousness to anyone, Beilschmidt," Ivan growled, his countenance suddenly angry. The mood in the room darkened considerably. Violet eyes flashed, clashing with dark red eyes.

"Really? Why do you say that?" Gilbert threw at him.

"Guys, please don't-" Matthew pleaded. "Don't go there."

"Yeah guys, we already went there. We already did this little drama scene of yours," Alfred chimed in. He tried to sound grown-up and assertive, but the laughing grin on his face showed just how eager he was to see a fight. He liked it when Ivan and Gilbert squabbled. Ivan was the douche dating his brother and Gilbert was the douche who _wanted _to. He personally wanted to see both of them beat the tar out of each other; Ivan for being a creep and Gilbert for being such an asshole. No matter what his brother might say, what he might think, he still thought Gilbert was bad news. Asshole might seem "cool" enough, but Alfred could still see Matthew with tears in his eyes and bruises on his stomach.

"Shut up!" the two of them shouted, teaming up against their third opponent. Alfred put both hands up defensively.

"Ok, Ok, don't double-team me. I wouldn't want the world to end," he spoke.

"Don't think I don't know what you've been doing," Ivan growled under his breath, pulling Gilbert off to the side so as not to get Matthew involved in their private spat. "Don't think I don't know what game you're playing. It's not a game you want to playing with _me_. Because you _will _lose."

Gilbert smirked nastily.

"Really? You think so? 'Cause so far, I think I'm winning. If you, quote, 'knew what I was doing,' then why didn't you stop me, huh? Where were you when I took _your _boyfriend out? Hiding in your room? On the lookout for a girl who came directly to Matthew's house to presumably attack him? That was a really bad move, because between you and me," here Gilbert leaned even closer, his chin hovering just above Ivan's shoulder, "I think you really pissed Matthew off. And guess what? I was there for him when you weren't. And now, he _knows_ he's got me."

Ivan's face was calm, but his eyes were torrents of fury.

"He's _mine! _Not some toy to fight over," Ivan hissed.

"Then stop calling him yours," Gilbert replied. "Because you know those days when you were out of the picture? You know, when you left him _alone?" _

At that, there was a flicker of guilt that Gilbert barely caught before it vanished.

"During those days, he was _mine. _And I simply cannot wait for the next time."

Ivan opened his mouth hotly. He swelled with rage, a purple fire in his eyes. He wanted to remind Gilbert of his _exact _relationship with Mattie, how _he _was the one who got to kiss him and how _he _was the one resorting to pathetic measures. _He _wasn't the one struggling in the background of a bigger picture, trying to push his way between two people. _He _wasn't the one resorting to taking Matthew out on "dates" behind his back.

And who was it that Matthew would choose, if push came to shove? If it came to spending time with one of the two, who would Matthew chose?

Ivan burned to say it. He was about to say it. He was going to say it, then sock Gilbert in the mouth if he said another word or even opened his ratty little mouth again.

But he didn't get the chance, probably for the best.

Someone knocked on the door. Before anyone could do anything, minus Alfred who dove down and hid behind the couch, there was click as a key was pushed into the lock and turned and the door swung open without hesitation.

"Oh please, as if French wine is truly superior to all other wines-"

"Uh! You're an Englishman, you have no sense of taste! You liked that despicable American concoction of wine and _chocolate _of all things!"

The Englishman, an irritated mask disguising his usual enjoyment of the argument, and the Frenchman were talking avidly, too avidly to pay attention to anything but each other. It didn't last long, though, because they noticed just how loud their voices seemed, in this too-quiet-house.

And both of them simultaneously turned their heads.

Gilbert's eyes went a little buggy. Alfred was hiding behind the couch and was content to stay there. Matthew flushed and opened his mouth to perhaps explain the mess or maybe to say something like, "wait, I can explain." And Ivan didn't even glance at the two, too absorbed in hateful, angry thoughts.

"Um, this isn't what it looks like, I hope," Francis said, not one for awkward silences.

"Uh, that depends on what it looks like," Gilbert said, trying to shove Ivan to the side. But the Russian wouldn't budge or even move. Gilbert decided now was not a good time to touch him so instead stepped to the side to smile brightly at the two adults. "If it looks like a crazy Russian bitch went on a nasty rampage and tried to kill Alfred the Pussy, then yeah, it is exactly what it looks like. But if it looks like we all got into some crazy fight and went completely batshit all over your walls, then I can assure you that it... was all Alfred's fault!"

"Hey!" Alfred shouted in protest.

"Gilbert!" Matthew exclaimed. "Dad, Papa, I can explain-"

"Yes, perhaps that'd be best..."

* * *

><p><strong>Yikes. Sorry for ending it like that. I didn't much like this update. But, uh, you know what? I kind of like what I accomplished in this chapter. More competitive banter between Gil and Ivan. I kind of like doing banter. Next time, there will be some angst instead of all this dumb comedy shit, I swear. <strong>


	28. Chapter 28

"Just a lover's quarrel," Alfred interrupted. "This guy-uh-this guy," he gestured wildly at Ivan, who looked bemused, "Thought it'd be amusing to start tapping my brother's ass and when I came home, they were making out and getting all hot and heavy on the couch over there-"

"Alfred!" Matthew shouted, somewhere between confused and alarmed. Why was Alfred lying? Was he kidding, teasing, messing around? Tryng to lie to cover up the fact that he'd been attacked by a nut? But why would he?

"Sorry, sorry, no extra details," Alfred said, smirking. He had his motive for lying, but it didn't mean he couldn't get a good tease out of it. "You know. Hormones were kick-started. So I came in and it just looked like I would have to break these two lovebirds up when suddenly, suddenly in comes this guy," Alfred jabbed his thumb at Gilbert, who looked vaguely amused and interested as to where exactly this tall tale was going, "Comes in like some crazy loon and pretty soon everyone's yelling and arguing and I don't know what's going on; All I know is that suddenly, this guy is a time bomb, no joke, a time bomb! He gets all crazy-upset and starts getting in Mr. Scary Russian's face and before you know it, things are about to get physical! So like the hero I am, I jump in, right? And well, you guys know I can't handle my own strength and all-"

A stunned silence greeted his alibi. Francis and Arthur exchanged skeptical glances. Ivan looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be amused or bewildered so settled for both. He wasn't sure where Alfred was going with his wild little story, but so far he saw no reason to call the American on it. Well, not yet.

As for Gilbert, well he was smirking broadly and _very _suspiciously. He was also curious to see where it was going, and like Ivan, he didn't see a reason to deny it. Yet. Let's see what Alfred is trying to accomplish before tearing him down, shall we? seemed to be the mood, because even Matthew was waiting to see what reaction Alfred seemed to be aiming for.

"So... you're saying that... you all got into a fight... trashed the house... and broke many costly items simply because...?"

"Because my brother was being raped!" Alfred shouted cheerfully.

That was it. Too far.

"Stop calling it that! It's not rape, you insufferable American pri-preschooler!" Ivan exclaimed, changing his wording at the last second to a more appropriate term. "Matthew isn't five years old-" he stuttered to a halt as he realized that he was just making Alfred's lie sound even more believable. Damn, sneaky little American could be smart when he wanted to. Or maybe he was just playing a part.

"And I had to, cause I'm his brother and it's my responsibility!" Alfred continued cheerfully and ignoring Ivan, as per usual. "Plus, I didn't start it! Things just got out of hands! I'm sorry! We're all sorry! And the damage is-uh, it's not so bad when you consider that it was me doing the destruction-well, most of it. I mean, uh, not most of it, you see, Ivan and Gilbert helped you see-"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. He surveyed Ivan and Gilbert carefully, looking for the telltale signs of a scuffled or ruffled attitudes. The white-haired one, the one he disliked and did not trust, was grinning like a cat cornering a mouse for whatever reason, but other than the mischief in his face displayed no bruises or scratches or cuts. And Ivan's clothing wasn't even rumpled. Something had happened here, for sure, but he didn't believe for even a second that Alfred was telling him an accurate rendition of what had happened. He glanced uncertainly at Francis, who didn't look like he believed it either.

The only one who looked beat up was Alfred. Roughed up quite a bit. No way would he be beaten up that badly without making equal damages to his opponent. And Ivan and Gilbert certainly weren't pushovers... why was he bullshitting?

"Things got out of hand?" Arthur mused.

"Uh-huh. But we all learned our lessons! Ivan's cool and Gilbert's cool and I'm cool and Mattie's always been cool and there's nothing to see here. Yup, we're all friends and we all learned our lessons and the moral of the story and all that gay shit! Whew, that was a really emotional tussle and I am exhausted! I think I'll just-uh, go to bed and take a nap, maybe, or uh, read a book-?"

"Nice try," Arthur rolled his eyes. "You still have the energy to rattle and blather blatant lies, so you clearly have the energy to finish cleaning up."

"Hey! I am offended that you would think that I am a liar!" Alfred said affrontedly, not even slightly abashed at being callled on his lies.

"Save it," Francis sighed. "No time for your usual theatrics." He sighed and glanced bleakly around at the damage, wincing. "Oh, ma lampe! Il est cassé! How could you break my lamp?"

"Bitch got in a nasty swing," Alfred grumbled. Then remembering his "part" he glared at Ivan, who merely seemed nonplussed, but was actually rather amused that his sister had managed to get in such a good hit. He didn't appreciate the "bitch" line, though.

"That was such a beautiful lamp," Francis moaned.

"Get over it," Arthur said dispassionately. "I'm sure we can get a replacement for a cheaper price than the original on eBay or something. Besides, do we even need a lamp here?"

"Of course an Englishman would have no concept of design and style," Francis exclaimed. "That lamp tied the entire room together! It made the walls look less dreadful-"

"Oh dreadful are they now? You sir, have no sense of taste!"

"Coming from you, that's rather rich, darl-"

"Can you guys save your lover's quarrel for the bed room?" Alfred sighed dramatically.

Arthur scowled.

"Oh, I see," Francis said smoothly. "Do you wish for us to focus on your punishment instead?"

Alfred gulped.

"I-I'm being punished?"

"Oh yes you are, young man! This kind of damage is past the point of 'oopsy, I slipped up and lost my temper,'" Arthur said irately. "You're going to pay for this-"

"Aww, Dad, but I was just defending Matthew's honor-"

Gilbert snorted. "Ha! Honor! He's not a girl or something," he snorted.

"And what are you implying, young man?" Arthur asked pointedly, now aiming his attention at the young man who'd once been his son's tormentor. Said young man flinched and shrank under his gaze, sensing the bottled fury under the politeness. "Nothing, just that he can handle himself," Gilbert murmured.

"Oui? Then what made you mad enough to start a fight in my house if you understand this?" Francis asked slyly.

"Uh-" Gilbert's eyes widened. Oops, he'd slipped up. Just a little, but a slip up nonetheless.

"He's just jealous," Ivan said sweetly. "And having Matthew, I can understand why. No feelings harmed." He smiled nastily, yet somehow simultaneously innocently at the German, whose eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly in annoyance.

"The only thing about you that I am jealous of... is Mattie," Gilbert said, glancing at the object of his affection for his reaction. Matthew blushed and a small smile curled slightly on his face, but he looked away. Not before Francis caught it. The Frenchman smiled, having caught the small gesture and feeling his heart flutter like when he was young, back when he was naive and got a flutter in his stomach when his crush so much as glanced at him. "I am jealous, but I'm the mature one. If anyone started this fight, it was you, Ivan, for being so goddamned arrogant!"

Matthew felt the tension in the room tightening tangibly.

That is until not-reading-the-atmosphere-perhaps-for-the-better-at-this-particular-moment Alfred chose to loosen the mood somewhat, if only to cover his (and Natalya, who he didn't want to see in jail or angry at him, both of which would happen if his parents knew what had _really gone _down) ass.

"Yeah, yeah, so maybe our emotions are still a little coiled. But now is not the time! Nope, cleanup time, cleanup, everybody clean up!" he sang the childish chant his preschool teachers sang to make the act of cleaning up more fun.

"Uh-huh, if you think you're going to get away without a punishment-" Arthur started.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, resigned. What was the worst they could do? It sounded like he was dismissive, but in actuality, he was actually anticipating and wondering, _what's the worst they can do?_

"You are _going _to get a job! And you are _going _to work all the damages off!" Arthur said.

Alfred started to groan, but quickly shut it down before it became whining, because his dad was getting that I've-lost-my-patience-with-you-Alfred look. He knew it. Best let him simmer down a little before riling him up to boiling again.

"And you!"

To everyone's surprise, he rounded on Matthew.

"Young man... what _exactly _were you doing with this... young man?" Arthur asked, his voice tinged with barely controlled annoyance.

"I-I," Matthew stammered. "I beg your pardon, b-but I was-uh-"

"There will be no... frollicking, not under this roof."

"Frollicking?" Alfred snorted. "Dad, did you seriously just used the word frollicking?"

Arthur ignored him.

"And on the couch too-"

Suddenly Francis hugged him.

"Oh, mon petit, just like your papa, I knew you had my French blood somewhere in there," he sobbed, his arms tightening like he was hugging a teddy bear. Matthew looked surprised and maybe a little fearful.

"Um-"

"How far did you ge-?"

"Not far!" Matthew squeaked, seeing Arthur's murderous glare at his Russian. "Not far at all! It's not as bad as you're probably imagining."

"Oh hon hon, I doubt it's as bad as _I _imagining, but it must've been pretty sexy to get your German riled up," he murmured huskily in his son's ear. Matthew's entire face and neck suddenly began to burn in embarrassment. "Papa, _please, _if you love me-"

"Oui, oui," Francis said reassuringly. "I will not continue. But later, we must talk young man! Your love life is more fascinating than I pictured." He smiled and winked at Gilbert, who was somewhat uncomfortable with the gesture, mostly because Matthew's _other _parent looked like he wanted to castrate him with a spoon. Ew, how would that work? Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, bad, unawesome thoughts...

"Francis!" Arthur hissed. "Now is _not _the time!"

"It's the perfect time," Francis said. "But oui, oui, go on, what's poor, sexually repressed Matthew's punishment?"

Matthew spluttered at his description while Gilbert began to snicker uncontrollably.

"Weirdness aside," Arthur looked around the room, calculating the damage. Altogether, not the worst he'd ever seen. Alfred had done a lot worse on his tenth birthday. Hmm, but he really didn't like the thought of the Russian and his son shagging on his couch... and the fact that that Gilbert Beilschmidt had something for Matthew... and that was simply unacceptable.

He hated love triangles. Francis might think they're adorable and in the name of love, but he never bought that crap. Love triangles ended in heart break and anger and frustration and pain. And there was clearly something stirring beneath the four boys. Not just Gilbert and Ivan panting after Matthew, but Alfred as well. He was acting odd. And he was obviously lying to cover up for something, _someone._

He didn't like this. He didn't like that Alfred was hiding something, something involving destroying a lot of their dining room, family room, and a few inanimate objects and he especially did _not _like how Beilschmidt, or Ivan for that matter, looked at his son. It unsettled him and made him angry. He hadn't done his job as a parent. Matthew's loneliness and abuse and inferiority complex were all because of his neglect and failure as a parent. He wasn't going to let this one slide, not by a long shot. But for now, he was just going to focus on cleaning up this mess.

And then he'd worry about the implications these new events had on his sons.

"Matthew, you didn't actively destroy my house, I suppose, but... you should help your brother pay for this mess, so I'm giving you the same punishment. I'm going to get all of these things appraised and whatever price comes back, you have to pay me to make up for it."

"Okay, Dad," Matthew said, relieved. It was a fair punishment. He only hoped Alfred wouldn't complain and make it worse.

Alfred didn't.

Good.

Arthur gave a prayer of gratitude to whatever deity you believe in, glad that he didn't have to get into a head-splitting, headache-inducing argument with his loudmouth of a son. Then felt a flicker of unease, because Alfred wasn't making a fuss because he didn't want to be questioned further.

"Okay, come on, get the vacuum. As for you two," Arthur glared at the albino and the Russian sternly, "You'd best leave. I'm not your parent and can't give you punishments like I can with my sons, but if you know what's good for you, you'll leave before I end up calling your parents." A lame threat, one that didn't scare either of the victims in question, but it was all he felt like coming up with. They got the point, though.

While Francis strolled into the kitchen to get a drink and Arthur went to the closet to find the vacuum, Matthew decided it was a good opportunity to have a "nice" and quick conversation with his brother, just a quick one before their parents came back...

"What exactly were you thinking?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

"I mean why did you _lie?" _Matthew asked.

"You make it sound like I've never done it before," Alfred said, rolling his eyes.

"But why did you cover for Natalya?" Ivan wondered.

Alfred scowled... for no apparent reason.

"I-I-it's none of your business!" he said.

"It kind of is," Gilbert chimed.

"Well if it's Ivan's, then it sure isn't yours," Alfred rounded on him.

"Well, I still want to be here," the albino shrugged.

"Whatever. What are you _doing?" _Matthew snapped.

"It doesn't matter..."

"It does because I'm taking the rap for it-" Matthew murmured.

"Nooooo, you're not," Alfred said.

"What do you-?"

"Ivan," the American said smugly.

"What? And wipe that look off your face before I wipe the floor with it," Ivan said irritably.

"Hmm-hmm, whatever," Alfred said hastily, "I mean that since this is your fault and she's your sister and I'm _not pressing charges..._ I figured you would like to... ah, pay the ahem, price?"

Ivan stared unblinkingly at him.

"For God's sake, you're rich! Just give me and Matt the money so we don't have to work off this stupid thing!"

"What was that?" Arthur called. "Where did you put the bloody vacuum? You never put it back where it belongs-"

"It's probably in my room," Alfred replied. A grumbling Brit emerged and stomped up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, Alfred continued his conversation.

"But your parents are expecting you to work it off," Ivan said.

"Uuuuuaaahhh!" Alfred shouted. "Why is this so fucking difficult?"

"Because you didn't tell our parents the truth," Matthew reminded him. "This is _your _fault. Natalya caused this mess and Ivan instigated it, but you're the liar here. It's your fault we're going to have to get jobs. And even if Ivan gave us the money we needed-and no, he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to- we'd still have to pretend to have jobs so they think their punishment is in effect. This would be a lot easier if you hadn't lied."

"Oh yeah," Alfred remembered.

"Yeah, what was up with that again?" Gilbert chipped in.

"Boys!"

The four boys straightened out of their instinctive huddle, trying not too look mischevious or guilty or suspicious in any way.

"Do you think we should spray Febreeze or something in here? Does it smell to you? Is it just me?"

* * *

><p><strong>Sum it up: Francis is moony-eyed over the "love triangle," Arthur is suspicious, Alfred is covering for Natalya for personal reasons, Matthew is pissed again, Ivan is confused as to why again, and I apologize for just how clumsy this is. <strong>

**Just keep in mind that it's like one in the morning. I'll edit tomorrow. But for now, I think it's time for sleep...**

**One last thing. **

**Next week, I will be in New York City. **

**If you live there, say hi. **

**Nope, just kidding, anonymous Internet-goers, I don't really know any of you. But you know, I might run into you on the street and not even know it... anyway, whatever, being in NYC isn't going to change my update-plans, 'cause I'll have connection. **

**Bye guys, will hear from me. **


	29. Chapter 29

**"**Mattiiiiieeeeeee!" Alfred whined.

"What?" Matthew snapped, irritated.

"I'm booooorrrrrrreeeeddddd."

"And what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Entertain me."

"You should be entertaining me, Alfred. Seeing as this is your fault," Matthew said. He kicked his shoe with his bare foot, watching it flop onto its side, feeling a lot like Alfred. Boring work, really. At least when they were dog-walking they were out and moving. When they were cat-sitting, it was literally just sitting and watching the cats take a dump in their litter boxes. And feeding them occasionally.

This was technically Matthew's job, since Alfred was sixteen and definitely old enough for most "serious" jobs like working in a store. Matthew was a little bit young for his grade and wouldn't turn sixteen for a few more months, about halfway into the next school year.

Wow. The good news? Their punishment ran into summer, so they had plenty of time to get rid of their debt.

The bad news? Wasting summer break working.

"I don't see why they couldn't have just come and lived with us or something instead of making us stay here," Alfred bemoaned.

"They said the cats were unfriendly and shouldn't leave their home," Matthew murmured. "Also, Dad and Papa wouldn't let them inside our house."

Alfred gave a melodramatic sigh and plopped his head back.

"This sucks."

"Stop whining," Matthew snapped. "You're the reason we're doing this."

"I know," Alfred said miserably.

"You know if you actually went to work at Staples or Pet's Mart or Target or Lenny's or _somewhere _then you could make some actual money?"

Ivan had agreed to pay for all the damages, but unfortunately their parents needed proof, so they ended up having to gather signatures and making up exactly "where" they got the money. So their punishment was still a punishment, just without the added side effect of being free labor, as they were actually getting paid.

"I know, I know, but money disappears so quickly," Alfred whined.

"It disappears because you spend it," Matthew chuckled.

"Which is why I don't bother gaining it 'cause I know I won't be able to save it!"

Matthew just shook his head in exasperation and amusement. Then he felt something rub against his foot. He glanced down. A cat with fluffy white fur and big black eyes was rubbing against his leg, its tail curling in delight. He smiled and reached down. Both of his hands encased the little creature, whose mass was half-fur. He picked it up and dropped it in his lap. It felt almost too light for its size. He wondered if they were underfeeding it or just seemed bigger and heavier because of the thick fur.

"Which one is that?" Alfred wondered.

Matthew rubbed its neck, smiling as it purred in response. He checked the collar.

"Kuma-Kuma... I can't read the end of his nametag; it's blurry. I think it was rubbed off or something." Matthew inspected the cat. Now that he was looking at it up-close, it didn't look so well. Kuma... Kumatatsu? Kumakiro? Kumashiso? Some Japanese-sounding name, he was positive, since the family was Japanese, perhaps Kumajiro? Kumajiro. Suited him. Kumajiro it was, then.

So Kumatatsu. He didn't look so well. His eyes seemed tired and elderly, if not dull. His paws were red and looked raw, like they'd been rubbing against a harsh surface for too long. His fur was thicker in some places than it was in others and there were a few blatant bald patches.

"Looks like Kitty's let himself go," Alfred commented. "He looks old."

"Yeah," Matthew agreed. "Poor thing. He seems lonely."

"All cats seemed lonely. They like being lonely," Alfred said. "It's why I've always liked dogs more."

"Hmm," Matthew hummed, hugging little Kumashiso closer to him, afraid that if he hugged him too tight the cat would dissolve in his grasp. "It's almost four. We can leave in thirty minutes, okay? After I feed them dinner."

"Okay," Alfred said. "Awesome. Good. Finally!"

"Hey!" Matthew exclaimed. "No more whining! You only have to endure thirty more minutes."

"That's a lot of time..."

Matthew huffed. His brother really had no patience. Thirty minutes was nothing.

Besides, whining was pointless. It wouldn't make time go faster or work easier. Come to think of it, though, now was a really good opportunity to ask about something he'd been wanting to ask Alfred. But until now, they hadn't been alone...

"Alfred, tell me the real reason you're covering for Ivan's sister."

Alfred immediately pivoted to stare at him. _Geez, Alfred, for someone who's trying to hide something, you have the subtlety of a bull in Yao's closet, _Matthew thought.

"Why do you think I have to have a reason?" he asked.

Matthew stared at him.

Alfred stared back.

"Al, how dumb do you think I am?"

Alfred sighed.

"Not dumb at all," he groaned. "In fact, I wish you were a lot dumber!"

"Um... thanks?"

Alfred let out another heavy sigh and looked off into the distance. Matthew waited, petting Kumasasu. _Patience. Wait, he'll spill. _

Suddenly, he sprang up, illiciting a flinch from Matthew and a startled hiss from the weary cat.

"Sorry," Alfred apologized to them. "But I just don't know what the hell is up with me!"

Matthew's shoulders drooped. "Okay, out with it. What did she say to bother you? Did she threaten you or something?"

The Canadian didn't think she had, because Alfred wasn't the type to be intimidated, quite the contrary, he would make a few of his own threats and he'd back them up too.

"I just-I'm not..."

"Alfred, you can tell me anything," Matthew said. "You can tell me anything, you know that? I won't tell Dad or Papa."

"I know I can trust you," Alfred nodded. "I know you won't tell. You never have before. I just-it's just not an easy thing to admit, you know?"

Matthew wanted to say, "no, I don't know," but he kept it to himself, patiently waiting for his brother to continue.

He did.

"Okay. So for the longest time... I was a really, really bad brother," Alfred spoke quietly. Which was what shocked Matthew. Alfred never spoke quietly. He had two volumes, loud and screaming. He'd never spoken with an inside voice before. And he'd never looked so grave or serious before. Well, no, not necessarily. He'd seen Alfred's face when he was furious before. His face would get dangerously fierce and he'd get a nasty glare in his eyes, a look that told you, seriously, stop pissing me off. But he looked... almost _sad? _

Since when did Alfred feel sadness?

"Scratch that. I'm a really shitty brother. When you needed me to protect you, I ignored you. When you just needed me to be there for you, I abandoned you. And when you were all alone, I forgot about you like everyone else. I'm a-I'm a complete asshole! I've always called myself a hero, but what good is a hero who can't even protect his little brother?"

"Al-Alfred, you don't-you shouldn't beat your-"

"Even if it's not entirely my fault," Alfred continued. "I still feel bad. I still feel guilty because it's my duty as a brother! And you-well, sometimes at night, I picture you curled up in a corner crying because you've just been alone for so long and I think about how horrible it must be to be alone for so long and I think about how horrible loneliness is and then I-" his throat seemed to close up and he choked a little bit.

Matthew grasped his shoulder comfortingly.

"Then I think about how much I h-hate being alone and then I start crying to myself like a big baby and I can't stop and I feel like utter shit because it's how you felt for so long and that's why I get really protective when you're around Gilbert and Ivan and it's also why I couldn't bear to get his sister in trouble because she had a break down and I realized she was just another lonely person and-"

Matthew's grip tightened. Alfred choked in the middle of his long, run-on sentence. He gave a large sigh and dropped his face into his two hands. Matthew didn't need to see his face to know he was crying. It was a little unnerving, to be honest, because Alfred was _not _the type to cry, _at all_. He was the kind who would break his leg and be really pissed off about it, not cry about it. He'd rather sock you in the face than admit you hurt his feelings, but here he was crying and admitting that at night he felt so bad he would cry.

"Alright, alright," Matthew sighed soothingly. "It's okay, it's okay, Alfred, you don't have to feel guilty..."

"I do, I really do," Alfred murmured, his voice oddly clear. When he looked back up, his face was almost composed again. His face was a little flushed still and his eyes were still tearing and abnormally bright, but otherwise, he just looked unusually grave. His brother tried not to feel too disappointed. Something about seeing Alfred break down made him feel oddly sensitive, like his brother breaking his facade down in front of him made him feel more vulnerable and open himself. Made him feel like they were closer than before, more intimate.

"Come on, pull yourself together," Matthew tried gently. "So that's why? You felt bad for her? What did she say?"

"S-she just reminded me of-of you when she was talking and she-she started crying and-I-"

"Alfred, I understand," Matthew said, taking in a deep breath. "I understand completely. But... you shouldn't have lied."

"I know."

"You shouldn't have kept this from me."

"I know."

"Arthur is already suspicious."

"I know!"

"She tried to kill you and probably would've attacked me if I'd been there."

"I know!, but-!"

"She's clearly unstable."

"But-"

"And if anyone gets hurt because her assault wasn't reported, you're going to be the blame."

"I know."

"And it'll be my fault too, because I didn't report her-"

"I know! Listen, Matthew, I know you think I'm an idiot, but I thought all this stuff out, okay?!"

Matthew's lips pursed. He looked away shyly at the floor. Alfred glared at him for a moment, but he was only mildly annoyed and he was hard to stay mad at.

"I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry, I just-I know! It was a really stupid thing to do and I know it! Stupid, stupid, stupid shit move to make, I know! She's nuts! A crazy bitch! I sure as hell don't like her! I just feel bad of her! I don't care about her! Why am I covering for her? She tried to kill me! She hit me and tried to stab me! She's got so many issues it's ridiculous! And she's into incest! Something's messed up in her head and she's the most demented, messed up chick I have ever met! And I don't know why I feel like I have to cover her!"

He looked incredibly pissed for a second, glaring at the ground, his jaw trembling, his fingernails digging into his palms. Then he let out an grunt that came off more as a suppressed scream.

"Life is so fucking complicated! I feel one way and think a different way! And I've never felt like this before! You know me! I think what I say which is what I feel! I've never done this keeping it to myself shit. I've always been able to do what I think is right! It's one of my heroic qualities! But now-now I don't know what I should do now."

Matthew nodded, letting out a breath he'd been holding. He shook his head rapidly, as if to clear his thoughts.

"I think that-that now we're in too deep to back out of you-our lie. I think that, uh, you can rely on your 'hero' instinct, even if it might stupid to... other people. If you felt bad for her, then you felt bad for her and you did what you thought was right. And I don't think anyone can blame you for that. She sounds like a sad person, a very misunderstood person and I can see why you felt you didn't need to give her more trouble. That being said, you're-you're going to have to be designated protection for when she comes back around-" Matthew faltered as suddenly his brother grabbed him like he was a teddy bear and squeezed him.

"Oh, Mattie, thank you so much for understanding! I still feel bad, but thank you for getting it," Alfred muttered into his neck. "And if she comes again, I won't let her hurt anyone! Least of all you! And she's still a bitch, no matter how bad I feel for her, so you don't have to worry about me wimping out or nothing! I'm the hero!" And Matthew knew then that Alfred was back to normal. He'd be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew. Been a month. Sorry. I've been busy. Mostly with work I should've been doing three months ago, but didn't bother doing it at the time. And then, well, I got distracted by more work, like writing other stories. And well, it took me a month to update. <strong>

**Anyone read High School Sweethearts? I feel bad for putting so much work into that story and putting this story's update off for so long, but hey, I was in a rut. **

**It's kind of amusing to me that Alfred thinks Natalya is sick for loving her brother while I whole-heartedly ship AmeCan.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: Yo.**

**Nothing else.**

* * *

><p>Ivan pressed Matthew against the couch cushions, pulling his slender body against his chest and connecting their lips. The Canadian responded tentatively, but positively, groaning and returning his kiss eagerly. He hesitantly placed his hands on Ivan's chest, rubbing light circles into the fabric of his shirt. His hands drifted to the other teenager's scarf, taking it in between both hands and rubbing it between his finger tips curiously. It was the softest fabric he'd ever felt.<p>

Ivan shifted even closer, his kiss growing fiercer as he felt heat blossoming in his chest. Matthew instinctively spread his legs to accomodate him and his hands, previously resting on either side of Matthew's head, stroked his thighs lightly. Matthew flinched ever so slightly and Ivan immediately moved his hands, not wanting to make him too uncomfortable.

His right hand went to his boyfriend's soft hair and his left hand rubbed his neck slowly, gently. Matthew giggled a little into their kiss, a little ticklish and Ivan let out a little moan at the soft vibrations. He deepened their kiss, suddenly craving more intimacy, craving his unique, sweet taste. His fingers tightened, tugging at Matthew's hair and stroking his head pleasurably. Matthew normally didn't care for his hair being pulled on (for some reason Alfred and Papa liked tugging on his curl which refused to lay down no matter what he did to it and it drove him nuts), but damn in Ivan's hands, every piece of him felt like it was on fire. He quite liked the feeling, even if it did terrify him at times. What did Alfred call it? Intimacy issues?

And suddenly, he was very aware of where Ivan's left hand was. It was running up and down his side before settling on his lower hip, his fingers teasingly close to-Matthew gasped as he squeezed. An unfamiliar spark flew to his lower... um, regions.

He felt an unfamiliar feeling of longing that both excited and scared him. He wanted, wanted, wanted so badly, but he was so, so, so afraid of wanting anything, or anyone, this badly. And what did he want? To be touched like this or to be loved? Were they the same? Or were they different? Did... wanting to be touched like... that mean he wanted to... do what Ivan wanted him to do? Did he want that too?

Was he caught up in the moment?

Matthew was completely shocked out of his thoughts as abruptly, Ivan scooped him up into his arms, bridal style. His arm supported Matthew's back, the other arm under his legs. He giggled and put both his arms around Ivan's neck to support himself better. Ivan smiled and bent his neck to peck Matthew on the tip of his nose. "You're beautiful," he purred.

"Aww, you're cute," Matthew responded. Blushing and grinning like a school girl, wow, now he felt extremely emasculated. Then again, Ivan could make any man feel emasculated...

Easily, the Russian carried his boyfriend upstairs, to his bedroom. Matthew felt a little panicked. He didn't know if he wanted this yet! He wanted more time to think, to consider, but Ivan seemed to sense his hesitation; his speed increased and before the Canadian knew it, he was dropped gently down onto the Russian's king-sized, luxurious bed. Ivan joined him a second later, his hips pinning down Matthew's, his palms on his chest. Matthew opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Ivan was afraid he'd say no.

He was terrified Matthew would say no because he wanted it so badly. He wanted Matthew to be his in every way, not just mentally but physically. Didn't he deserve it too? Didn't Matthew want it? Surely he did, because he said he loved Ivan! And people who loved each other made love to each other. Matthew was just a little scared, nervous. Ivan would show him. He'd show him he had nothing, nothing at all to be afraid of!

So he kissed him. And Matthew didn't resist, though he wasn't exactly acting encouraging. His hand was shaking a little, twisted in the front of Ivan's shirt, like he wanted to push him away but was fighting the desire to pull him closer.

Ivan wanted to make it easy for him. He didn't just want to pleasure himself; when he kissed him, he tried his best not to take what he wanted, instead earnestly kissing Matthew the way he knew he would like it: slow, steady, loving. This wasn't about sex, not to him and not to Mattie he was sure, but mutual affection and trust. He wanted Mattie to know that.

_Say yes, say yes, please say yes, please say yes, _he begged. _I need you._

When he drew back, both arms holding him above his lover, he saw Matthew's eyes were dazed, somewhat confused, but pleased nonetheless.

Ivan asked him for permission, not with his words, but his eyes. He was panting-he hated that word. Panting was just so humanizing, and he hated that feeling of vulnerability... but then, it was Matthew.

He had nothing to hide from his Mattie, nothing at all. He would pour his heart and all of his love into Matthew. It might've been a mistake and the voices he sometimes heard whispering suggestions in his ears sometimes told him _he's only going to hurt you, he's only going to take your heart into his hands and twist it and crush it into pulp, you understand? Don't you know? He doesn't deserve all of you; no one does. He will only hurt you..._But what did they know? He wasn't listening to them. He was listening to his still-beating heart. Cold as ice, but capable of pumping blood to every organ to keep him breathing and alive. And Matthew, Matthew was his heart, the reason it was pumping, the fire that warmed him. He made him feel happy, so happy, so in love, made every part of him feel alive. In a way, Ivan felt like Matthew _was_ what kept him alive.

_Mistake, mistake, he's only going to hurt you, you can't trust him, can't trust him, just a liar, just a fake like the rest, just going to hurt you like Toris, don't make the same mistakes, fool, don't let your heart thaw again, you can't-_

_Shut up. Shut up about Toris. Shut up about everything. Mattie is different. He's mine. He's mine, I know it. He's different. Toris was afraid of me. Mattie isn't._

_Because he was emotionally damaged. And just because you are you think you two are made for each other? You're pathetic. You're pathetic, so pathetic..._

"I-Ivan, I'm not-"

"Quiet."

Matthew's violet eyes widened. Ivan had never told him to be quiet.

"Ivan, wai-"

Ivan pressed his hand softly against his lips. Without hesitation, he pushed Matthew's shirt up, stroking the smooth expanse of skin, white, pretty skin. How he wanted to mark that skin as his own, claim it as his, carve his name in red so that anyone who saw knew...

Matthew struggled a little, alarmed at the hand blocking his mouth from protesting, but it was half-hearted and all but ceased when he felt Ivan's cold nose pressed against his warm skin. He gasped as his tongue slipped out and drew a cold, tickling trail of saliva from the area just above his waist to his belly button. He jerked a little, unwillingly, but Ivan held his hips down with both hands.

That scared Matthew.

He wanted to say stop. But as much as he wanted to say it, he couldn't. No, he couldn't say no, not when the answer wasn't completely and absolutely _no. _

So he didn't tell him to stop. He didn't protest, even when Ivan's fingernails dug crescent-shaped indents into his skin, even when he grew afraid as his shirt was pulled off. He felt horribly exposed, horribly weak. He wanted to say no, but he couldn't. He felt pathetic, but couldn't bear to disappoint Ivan. He was scared and shot with nerves, but the pressure was on. Ivan had known he'd wanted it and now he couldn't disappoint him, couldn't throw the poor dog a bone only to pull it back out of its grasp with the string in his hand. He couldn't do that to him.

So instead, he tried to convince himself he wanted this. And with the growing heat between his legs, it wasn't hard to convince himself of it. His body wanted it, so he must want it. He tried repeating it to himself, but doubt was still lurking in the corner of his mind.

Ivan fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. His fumbling fingers invoked a sudden daring in the Canadian. With a grin Ivan (and probably no human being ever before) had never seen, Matthew pushed his hands away and undid it himself. Ivan grabbed his pants at the waist while Matthew leaned forward and tried to wiggle free. After some clumsy maneuvering (Matthew laughed but Ivan seemed frustrated), they finally slipped off and the only thing Matthew was wearing were red boxers.

For a moment, Ivan just stared at Matthew's heaving, panting chest. Matthew took a few seconds to regain his breath, feeling oddly tired even though they hadn't done anything yet. He propped himself up on his elbows, wondering what Ivan was doing. Then paling as he saw that strange look in Ivan's eyes.

It was creepily vague. Like he wasn't really seeing him, just staring through him. Like he was utterly detached and couldn't care less, was just going through the motions and forgetting...

"I-Ivan?" Matthew said shakily. "Are you-? Are you okay?"

_Please, please answer me. You're scaring me. Don't look at me like I'm not here. Please, don't, not now, not when I finally said yes because I don't think I could handle that._

Ivan shook his head abruptly. "Right. Sorry. My attention drifted," he stated simply. Then his eyes grew a shade darker. "This will be fun." Matthew shivered at his tone. The Russian decided he liked that shiver. It was cute. Endearing. It made Matthew look vulnerable and right now, that was really what he needed. The bed sank under his weight as he got on to the bed and pressed his body against Matthew's, pushing his leg between his thighs and sliding up his naked leg further up and up until he was rubbing little Mattie's crotch. The blond let out a surprised yelp, surprised but the heat down there was immense and at that point, he was feeling a little too hot to feel embarrassed,just a little too stimulated. And when his senses were overtaken by heat, well, he got daring.

And what he did next would shock and delight Ivan to the point of being unable to react for a good minute or two.

Matthew's fingers fumbled wildly at his clothing, tearing and scrabbling to pull it from his body, ripping a few buttons free of his shirt (not that Ivan was complaining). Ivan groaned as his normally passive, quiet little Canadian clawed at his back trying to tear his shirt from his body. When he finally succeeded, he tossed the shirt into a random direction, not caring where it landed. Matthew didn't even pause there. He leaned up, Ivan barely managing to avoid their heads knocking against one another's, and yanked Ivan's zipper down. He was having some difficulty, though (unbutton first, Matthew, then zipper), so Ivan stood up really quickly and did it for him. They were both left wearing only their underwear, Matthew on Ivan's bed, Ivan standing in front of him, more than half-naked and with no shame.

They stared evenly at one another for a moment, neither of them showing even the slightest hint of emotion.

Ivan gave in first.

He kneeled onto the bed and crawled over to Matthew, his right hand touching his flat stomach, his left arm wrapping itself around his waist. Ivan bent down and connected their lips, smiling into their kiss as he felt Matthew's flexible legs sliding across the bedsheets to wrap around his waist. He moaned pleasantly, feeling their mutual arousals rubbing against one another, feeling the pressure beginning to tighten. He gave an experimental thrust, just one quick buck that pushed him into the mattress, and Matthew let out a small shout, a small exclamation (surprise? or desire?).

Ivan smiled like a cat smiling at a live mouse caught in a mousetrap. "You like that?" he purred.

Matthew knew instantly he was never going to enjoy dirty talk. "Ugh, Ivan, no dirty talk, please, it's... embarrassing," he murmured.

"As embarrassing as having sex with the light on?" Ivan chuckled. Matthew blushed.

"I-I guess I didn't notice-"

A phone rang.

It was Matthew's cellphone. Matthew glanced guiltily at his jeans, lying on the floor, his legs falling back down to the mattress.

"Alfred has bad timing. You're not going to-?"

"I'm not going to answer it. We're busy, aren't we?" Matthew countered. Ivan grinned. But then he reconsidered, seeing the caller ID name glowing through Matthew's jean pocket.

"Wait you know what? You can answer it."

Matthew frowned. "But I-"

"Just do this for me, will you?"

A little confused, Matthew swung his legs off the side of the bed, leaning down to snatch up his phone, answering it without checking the name.

"Uh-hello? Matthew speaking, who is this? I'm kind of-"

"Yo, Mattie!"

Matthew sighed inwardly. Gilbert. Worse timing ever.

"Hey Gil, you know I'm kind of-"

"Dude, I really need to talk to you! I've got stuff to tell you!"

Matthew was going to reply that now was _not the time, _but he was distracted. Ivan had stood up and was walking slowly over to him, grinning savagely. "Uh-?"

"What was that, Mattie?"

"I-uh," Matthew squeaked.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"I-aargh, fine," Matthew said breathlessly, trying to sound like his neck was _not _being littered with small kisses and nibbles, like his lover was _not _licking his neck and breathing hotly into his ear.

"You don't sound fine."

"I-um, don't-uh, sound fine? Beca-aaa-use I'm fine," he managed to say more or less straight. More or less. Hard to talk when your lover is doing his best to get you to make a noise. Matthew glared at Ivan, who stared innocently up at him from the floor on his knees, trying to tell the Russian to _quit it _but Ivan thought it was a challenge and he'd be damned if he ignored this fun little one. He hoped Matthew lost, because whether he won or Mattie lost, he still won.

"Fine? Is-is someone there with you?" Gilbert said, sounding uncertain.

"Mmmh," Matthew said into the phone as his mouth was savagely ravished and saliva was exchanged. "Mrrrrmph."

"Sorry, couldn't hear that," Gilbert said loudly. "Care to repeat?"

"I-urf, said I-aaagh-"

"You're not masturbating, are you?"

Ivan slapped a hand over Mattie's lips before he could reply. Ivan took a second to appreciate the bright red flush on his Canadian's adorable face before answering Gilbert's question.

"No, why would he when he has me?"

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Very, very embarrassed right now, not going to lie. Yaoi fan, still not sure about writing sex yet. Might continue this next chapter, or might be implied, depends on how I want the next chap to go, so... I'll keep it short today. Bye guys, hope you enjoyed.<strong>


	31. Chapter 31

**Hi. Been a while. I'm not going to keep you waiting much longer, but I do have something really important to say. **

**Due to my sudden lack of interest, this story is not the highest one on my priorities list. And when you consider that I have been horribly busy with classes and (recreational) writing has been the last thing on my mind as of late, I'd say the fact that I got to updating THIS story is quite something. Um, I'm going to try and finish it without it being rushed or sloppy. I'm going to nix a few of my more trailing plot points. If things seem kind of disconnected, it's because I left clues for later on, but these later on events were abolished when I decided to end it sooner. So I apologize, but that's how it's going to be. **

**Also, I'm busy. Very, very busy. And thinking out of the box for school is NOT easy or fun, but does waste my creativity juice and I find that when I have free time, I don't spend it writing, I spend it sleeping. Horrible, I know, but the truth. **

**So I probably won't update for a long while. I'm really sorry. **

**Anyways, let's get to the thing you care about, shall we? **

**I start off this chapter with a lovely:**

* * *

><p>"<em>Fucking son of a bitch from hell!" <em>

His therapist poked his head out of his office and stared down the hallway at him.

"Having a problem getting a ride?" he asked.

"No, no, just-" Gilbert made a noise, somewhere between a growl and a curse. "Nothing."

"Remember what we talked about."

"Right."

"Remember to use your inside voice. Remember not to get carried away."

"Right. Okay. Sure."

"Seriously. It works. Find a calming place. Focus on detaching yourse-"

"I got it! Thank you _very much, _Dr. Steaner!" Gilbert huffed, his head starting to ache just a little. He breathed in deeply and slapped a hand to his forehead, rubbing his eyes. "I'm _going to go now. _It has been nice seeing you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Gilbert."

"Yep, okay."

"...Have a nice day, Gilbert."

"We'll see," Gilbert said under his breath. He grimaced, staring at his phone like it was a venomous snake.

He was trying. He was really trying. He'd _tried _to focus and take the therapist seriously, he really had, but he couldn't help but think it was a waste of time and that his therapist was for teenage girls. Sure, he was a nice guy. Wore nice ties. Had shiny shoes. Was a confident, friendly guy who was young enough to relate to kids and teenagers. Was also smart enough to spew psycho-babble and evaluations. Had a lot of suggestions, mostly good ones.

But he had no idea what he was dealing with, not this time.

Anger issues? He didn't have fucking anger issues! Why the fuck would anyone think he had fucking anger issues?

Gilbert permitted a smile to escape, liking a little hypocritical humor here and there, feeling strangely mellow. This was his second therapy session and he was starting to detect a pattern.

After leaving the office, he would definitely be feeling calmer. More in control, more relaxed. Almost superior in a detached sort of way. Mostly because he spent his time chanting, "this is dumb, this is dumb, you're not fooling me, you're not fooling me," in hs head, which was therapeutic in its own way. He'd walk out feeling like he'd won something, some harsh, unforgiving and tedious battle, a victory for the ages.

After this particularly long session (Ludwig extended the time period from a one-hour session to two hours for some reason; maybe he liked paying an extra 200 dollars with his hard-won working money?), he felt victorious. A winner. He'd called Mattie, wanting to discuss his therapist with him, hear what he had to say, maybe get in one of those soft and sensitive moments where both of them felt weak in the knees and vulnerable.

Now normally, he'd be feeling dreamy, in an almost melancholic way, like he was walking in the rain but didn't give a damn. Normally. However, normally he did _not_ call Matthew and, normally did _not _hear him and his boyfriend clearly having sex (or foreplay, neither of which he really wanted to think about... unless it was him and Matthew, which was actually what he thought about when getting comfortable with his right hand), and today of all days, he most certainly did _not _fucking appreciate it.

"Fuck!"

He scared a man walking with his dog. The man looked irritated, a trifle alarmed. Gilbert nodded at him, turning away embarrassedly.

"Sorry."

But seriously, what the fuck? Matthew answered his call while having sex with Ivan? Who does that? That's sick!

But of course, that wasn't the real reason he was upset.

Damn, damn, damn! He was pretty sure Matthew was a virgin. If he was having sex with Ivan, then what chance did he really have? Matthew was like a girl; Gilbert was almost positive he got all starry-eyed and romantic about losing his virginity and would probably be even further deluded into thinking Ivan was his soulmate. Damn. What hope did he have now? What could he possible do-?

"Get it together, Beilschmidt!"

Great. Now he'd scared some poor mother with her toddler. She eyed him furtively, unsure of whether to grab her child and start running. He smiled weakly and she grabbed her daughter's hand and started walking faster.

He laughed.

"I'm crazy. That's it," he chuckled. Then he frowned again, thinking about his predicament. Nothing was certain yet. Maybe after he called, Matthew wasn't in the mood anymore. Maybe Ivan and he were just fooling around and weren't actually having sex or about to have sex and Ivan was just taunting him. Maybe Alfred would walk in on them. Yeah, that'd be funny and wasn't Matthew always complaining about Alfred getting in the-?

Suddenly Gilbert got an idea.

He pulled out his phone. He didn't have his phone number, but he vaguely remembered a number he used to call when he wanted to deface public property.

"Yo, Alfred."

He grinned, slipping the phone into his pocket, his ears ringing. Perfect. Did he feel guilty? Nope. Not at all.

Now what to do, what to do...

He really wanted to talk to Matthew right now.

He started to call Matthew, then paused, re-thinking it. No, best to wait an hour or two. Alfred would probably be done and Matthew would've calmed down and he would have his thoughts all sorted and organized by then. Yes, he'd ask Matthew out to lunch and they'd have a nice talk and if that didn't happen, then at least he knew he had succeeded in saving Mattie's virginity (or at least, he hoped so). He had no idea that he'd just set in motion a chain reaction, not at the time, but later, upon reflection, he'd think about that moment and wonder if it was his crowning moment of heroism or his crowning moment of assholery. Maybe both. Still, no matter which one, he would've gladly done it again, if he had the choice.

* * *

><p><strong>I told you. I'm going to finish this thing no matter what. <strong>

**Shit will go down next chapter. Alles ist gut? Nein, Scheiße untergeht nächsten Kapitel. Donc syntoniser pour la prochaine fois. **

**So I'm going to end it by doing my classic routine. Friction becomes a spark, a spark becomes a flame, a flame becomes a bonfire, and a bonfire becomes an inferno. Said inferno will die out and there will be nothing left but ashes. Hahahah! Also, there might not be a happy ending. *shrugs* I'm not good at happy endings. Bittersweet, yes, but happy? No. **

**Next time it'll be longer and more satisfying, I promise. **


	32. Chapter 32

"I'm really sorry."

Gilbert hummed something nonchalant under his breath, turning away from him.

"I didn't mean to ignore you or anything. It's just been... hectic. And busy."

Gilbert suddenly found the windows very fascinating and the bustling street beyond them the most interesting sight in the world.

"I just-just got caught up in... other stuff."

Gilbert let his eyes drift down, still avoiding Matthew's, and reached for his drink. Taking the glass in his fingers, he drank slowly.

"C'mon, at least look at me. I'm sorry, okay? But I can't always get here to see you, you know? I've had other things to do."

Gilbert was still quiet. Matthew stared at him uncertainly, slightly frustrated and slightly worried.

Then he looked up and Matthew held his breath.

He let it out with a puff.

"Not funny!"

Gilbert started laughing, shaking with mirth.

"Yo-you are such-such a puff," he sputtered. "I can't-I get it, man, you were busy. I got it. You come in all flustered and guilty and all freaked out-"

"That's such-such a dick move," Matthew scowled mildly. "I can't believe you-"

"I thought you deserved a little squirming for standing me up for so long," Gilbert asserted. "You _should _feel guilty. Friends don't leave friends hanging."

He didn't mention the days of agony, waiting for Matthew to call him. He didn't mention how desperate he'd felt, wanting to call but fearing that it would be Ivan who answered with a self-satisfied tone, a complacent murmur that had everything Gilbert wanted and knew it. He wanted to call, considered calling, saying something subtle like, "So did you and Ivan fuck?" Okay, not quite that subtle.

Gilbert had decided he would wait. Matthew could call him if he wanted to talk to him. Matthew would call. He would. They were friends. Matthew would tell him what happened. Did he want to know? No. Well. Yes. Yes and no. Gilbert waited, fearing the phone's ring and wanting it. When it rang, he's leap to his feet and dive for his phone, only for Antonio or Elizaveta or Roderich to ask him how he was doing. _Fine, fucking fine, please get off the phone so I can wait for Matthew to call._

Why was everyone getting so up and worried about him anyway?

First Ludwig thinking he was fucked in the head, then Matthew thinking Ludwig might be right, then all of his friends checking in on him and asking him how he was... what the hell was going on?

And school. God, he hated going to school. Everyone stared at him. More specifically, _glared _at him. Self-righteous pricks. How dare they glare at him like he was the only one, like he was the one to blame, like he was the _only _bully. He hadn't been the only one. Granted, that certainly wasn't an excuse. In fact, it made things worse. But putting that aside, they had no right to look at him like he was the bad guy. He wasn't the good guy. But he certainly wasn't the only bad guy. And they had no right to treat him like it, like an outcast. Oh, Gilbert was such a jerk to poor victimized little Matthew, oh boo hoo, aren't we such good people?

Gilbert felt his rage level spiking as he imagined their taunting voices. He'd stayed inside all weekend, never going out except for school, watching TV with listless eyes and a mind-numbing apathy. Always thinking, agonizing over that brief glimpse he caught of Matthew hanging off his boyfriend's shoulder, so touchable and friendly but unattainable; Ivan so smug and happy and worst, condescending, like he had everything. And to Gilbert, yes, he did have everything. Everything he wanted. It was enough to drive anyone insane and he'd stay in the dark recesses of his basement, tormented by Matthew's smiles and waves and soft greetings, friendly Matthew, just-stay-good-friends Matthew, and worse, when he thought of all the suffering he put Matthew through, the victim-Matthew, and why he was the way he was. Then he would get to self-hatred (usually before and after lunch, if there was any of course) and start agreeing with Ludwig and everyone else. Yes, he was a fuck-head. He deserved it. He was the bad guy. Everyone was right. Everyone's glares, from apathetic and stiff to cold and unforgiving, were completely and utterly deserved and they could see it, could see the horrible excuse for a human being he was.

"What's wrong?" Matthew asked, noticing his terse expression. He seemed a little alarmed at the sudden mood change. Gilbert didn't want that.

"Nothing," he said, willing his pain to leave his face. He forced a smile.

"Don't do that," Matthew said immediately.

"What?" Gilbert asked bemusedly.

"Grin like you're biting bricks."

The albino laughed.

It felt good to smile for real.

He wanted to savour it.

"Seriously, Gil, what's wrong? I haven't seen you in... maybe two weeks. What's up? How is your counselor? I feel like such a bastard for not having a good conversation with you for maybe... two weeks, has it been?"

Gilbert nodded numbly. "Something like that," he said weakly. Seventeen days to be exact. "But uh, let's talk about you first. What have-have you been doing?" He cringed a little, hating how he sounded. His voice sounded like a bizarre mix of desperation, longing, accusatory, disappointed, depressed-okay, maybe none of those emotions could _actually _be heard in his tone, but he felt blood pumping in his ears, feeling like all of these emotions were running rampant across his face. _Like an open book..._

"Oh, nothing really," Matthew said sweetly.

"Nothing?"

Matthew stared contemplatively at Gilbert's nose, his eyes oddly playful.

"Okay, okay, I'm lying," he admitted. "I've been spending... a lot of time with Ivan."

Gilbert felt sick, but he tried to sound casual.

"Hmm. A lot of time?" he said, trying to sound joking and light-hearted but coming off hoarse.

"Y-yeah. I suppose you don't remember when you called me that one time-?" Matthew left the end of the sentence hang there, his eyes oddly bright instead of embarrassed.

"Yeah. I remember," the German said flatly.

Matthew giggled, mistaking his tone as sarcastic.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

_Get yourself together, Beilschmidt, _Gilbert snapped at himself. _Just ask the damn question. Don't make this so fucking awkward! And stop stalling already, damn you!_

"Were you guys... fu-in the middle of... less than parent-friendly activities?" he said, laughing a little (his throat felt like it was going to rip from all the force it took). Matthew laughed lightly with him.

"Well... yes. I'm sorry, but Ivan wanted to-"

"It's fine, it's fine. Just... tell me all of the... dirty details," Gilbert smiled. (_Oh god, inside I feel like curling into a ball and just dying). _

"Pervert," Matthew said affably.

"You know it," Gilbert grinned. His blond companion broke into giggles, his blue eyes lively. "Come on, you guys do it or what?"

"When? The phone call or any time in the past two weeks?"

The albino felt like groaning and banging his head on the table and crying and tearing out his traitorous heart, threatening to stop beating any moment. He felt like every organ in his body was being crushed mercilessly and unknowingly by every word Matthew said. The blond wasn't aware of the importance of his words, of just how painful and joyful they could be, how powerful they were on him. What they meant to him.

"I don't know. All of the above."

He waited. _It seems like I'm always waiting for this man. I hate how wonderful he is. I hate how much I love him. I hate how much control he has and how little I have. _

_I hate him so much. I hate myself. I hate Ivan. I hate how much I hate. _

"We didn't. Alfred interrupted us. Again. And he caught us... um, you know, trying."

And Gilbert felt like smacking himself in the face.

_Of course. Of course, now I remember, I called Alfred! I called Alfred! _

The wave of relief hit him so hard that visibly he relaxed.

Then he started laughing.

Matthew lightly thumped his head.

"It's not funny!"

"It-it really is!"

"No it isn't," Matthew pouted. "He's such a pest. He's an asshole. He's always getting-ah, he's just been so annoying recently. Worse than my dads. Actually, you know what? He's always been worse. I don't know why he's such a prude. And seriously, how on earth does he keep knowing when me and Ivan are... you know, getting it on? Like I was two hundred percent sure he would be busy on, you know, when you-uh-"

"Had the displeasure of hearing your guyses' foreplay," Gilbert concluded, finding it easier to joke about it when finding out that it hadn't happened. It hadn't happened. He'd done it. He'd saved him. Thank God for an annoying, clingy, overprotective twin. He'd give Alfred a big hug and a birthday present next time he saw him.

"Yeah," Matthew laughed. "But seriously now, I don't know why on earth he _knew. _I mean, he had to have known, it's not like he had any other reason to be home except to... bother us."

Gilbert shrugged.

"Maybe he was spying on you. Wouldn't put it past him."

"No," Matthew agreed. "No, it's something he would do. And he's been like that all week. Now I have to lull him into false security. Me and Ivan are all hands-off until he eases off us for a bit."

"But Alfred's a stubborn brat," Gilbert said.

"Yes," Matthew affirmed. "A big, noisy, stubborn brat. A hypocrite too, I might add. As if the girl he's mooning after is any less 'dangerous' than he claims mine is-"

"What?"

"Nothing. But anyway. You already know this. Tell me, how's your counselor? And your sessions? Come on, tell me how you've been doing. You okay in there, Gilbert?"

And Gilbert laughed, suddenly feeling on top of the world after days of depression and loneliness and self-loathing.

_Damn you Matthew. You can't keep doing stuff like this to me. You can't._

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><p><strong>Hello. <strong>

**It's been almost a year since I started this. I didn't realize just how long until I saw one of my author's notes in chapter fifteen talking about a class I took last year. Damn. Lots has happened. And I didn't even realize it.**

**Anyway. I'm going to finish this story before the new year. I hope. Ciao, hope you liked. Thanks for sticking with me even though I haven't been on FFN for almost a month. **


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